Poetry
Go, Piteous Heart Go, pytyous hart, rasyd with dedly wo, Persyd with payn, bleding with wondes smart, Bewayle thy fortune, with vaynys wan and blo. O Fortune vnfrendly, Fortune vnkynde thow art, To be so …
Especially when the October wind With frosty fingers punishes my hair, Caught by the crabbing sun I walk on fire And cast a shadow crab upon the land, By the sea’s side, hearing the noise …
Pine sticks are rifles and pinecones are grenades
Christina Rossetti: prolific literary family progeny
Persimmon A single fruit had clung to leafless limbs The entire month of ice and freezing rain. It split in places round, as though seed comes Out of season anyway and could retain Some power …
August This was its promise, held to faithfully: The early morning sun came in this way Until the angle of its saffron beam Between the curtains and the sofa lay, And with its ochre heat …
Readying the Field His tractor tugs dirt in a circle, combs through clods as solid as baseballs, then hoes the whole again, signaling the mound a bull’s eye. Only then does he tip his stare …
Turbocharged Direct Injection times poetry seems insufficient, say in the morning, swaddled in poly, contorting to prove your recollections exist in alphabetical order, or distinguishing you, you are free and capable of feeling total betrayal, …
In July Why do I make no poems? Good my friend Now is there silence through the summer woods, In whose green depths and lawny solitudes The light is dreaming; voicings clear ascend Now from …
July I Blue July, bright July, Month of storms and gorgeous blue; Violet lightnings o’er thy sky, Heavy falls of drenching dew; Summer crown! o’er glen and glade Shrinking hyacinths in their shade; I welcome …
Story (An author speaks of himself and of his first novel.) I shot—in Vietnam—at clouds and trees. Our orders were to count our kills. They’d check: How many gooks? I’d shout out: two, three, four, …