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poetry: results 481–504 of 735

The Week in Renovation: Monday  by CAROLYN GUINZIO

24 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

I needed to see you,

but you weren't here.

There was no sign.

The gate was bolted.

The Week in Renovation: Saturday  by CAROLYN GUINZIO

22 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

If I could

be a character with a mind

to find inside my own head

the path from A to B…

The Week in Renovation: Thursday  by CAROLYN GUINZIO

20 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

You have to wonder

who would leave

a ladder open

in an empty lot.

The Week in Renovation: Tuesday  by CAROLYN GUINZIO

18 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

First, say:

Today will not end

as if it never began.

Thunderheads are not

gathering.

Photograph  by SANDY FLORIAN

A likeness or delineation. Or. The application of Light to the purpose of Representation. Rather. The smallest reduction of the largest pyramid. And. The largest enlargement of the smallest microbe. An underwater waterlog of the sawfish in swim. For.

Evanston  by LEIGH STEIN

8 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
elegy

My dad would like to ship my grandmother to Oregon, but first

he calls to ask what I think about heart surgery. She'll die

if they do and she'll die if they don't and there are buckets of hyacinths

on my rooftop, and bathtubs of irises; I don't want to talk about this…

poverty  by PETER SCHWARTZ

6 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

give me my 12 cuckoos worth

of haunted fleurons, nostalgia

to fix my haywire antennae

and be heard…

He just doesn't like the idea of lawn art  by BROOK HOUGLUM

4 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
prose poem

You spend the last part of the party in the laundry rubbing salt into wine splotches on your shirt, thinking, even the stone painted like a ladybug, even the slug made of Christmas lights, even rusted bicycle wheels soldered to spikes? This is not party talk about landscape…

She Makes Me a Little Sculpture  by JAMES GRINWIS

2 October 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

A scrawny hippo, a tar-caked disc

hopping around out back.

A rogue flipped on his back…

Congo  by SCOTT GLASSMAN

27 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
prose poem

You are no dumb chimp, smacking white on ultramarine, mars black on white, a stroke of crimson somewhere in between to mimic an inferno. You didn't knock over the brushes or try to eat them…

Our Secret  by SCOTT GLASSMAN

24 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
prose poem

Neverland won't fess up…

Notes for a Thirty Volume Letter To You  by DEREK SMITH

21 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

You say, "I have been tired recently and I've tried to tell you

                About this, about how I'm feeling."

I have looked at you, but you have not seen me looking…

Your Return  by DEREK SMITH

18 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

Your return brought many surprises.

I hadn't, for example, remembered

your habit of calling me Herman Tinklewip…

I'll tell you how the Sun rose—  by EMILY DICKINSON

16 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
classic

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers—

Untouched by Morning—

And untouched by Noon—

Lie the meek members of the Resurrection—

Rafter of Satin—and Roof of Stone!

We play at Paste—  by EMILY DICKINSON

15 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
classic

We play at Paste—

Till qualified, for Pearl—

Then, drop the Paste—

And deem ourself a fool—

The nearest Dream recedes—unrealized—  by EMILY DICKINSON

14 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
classic

The Heaven we chase,

Like the June Bee—before the School Boy,

Invites the Race—

Stoops—to an easy Clover—

Safe in their Alabaster Chambers—  by EMILY DICKINSON

13 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3
classic

But how he set—I know not—

There seemed a purple stile

That little Yellow boys and girls

Were climbing all the while—

[You there with green teeth] from Nights and Weekends  by NICHOLAS GRIDER

8 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

You there green with teeth

and certificates, summer

another midnight

under a dotted line (a trust fund)…

[Because it's that time of year again] from Nights and Weekends  by NICHOLAS GRIDER

5 September 2005
Vol. 5, No. 3

Whatever comes naturally, he says

the sky is always the hardest part

with the guest bedroom locked

and you in it…

The Dead Dolly  by MARGARET VANDERGRIFT

You needn't be trying to comfort me,

I tell you my Dolly is dead!

There's no use in saying she isn't

With a crack like that in her head.

A Clarinet  by GENEVIEVE BETTS

21 August 2005
Vol. 5, No. 2
prose poem

If it is not machine mastery, it is a language. Even without air, the cold clattering of padded keys impresses the tiny white seals with seams.

To His Watch  by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

12 August 2005
Vol. 5, No. 2
classic, rhyme

The telling time our task is; time's some part,

Not all, but we were framed to fail and die—

One spell and well that one. There, ah thereby

Is comfort's carol of all or woe's worst smart.

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.  by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS

8 August 2005
Vol. 5, No. 2
classic, sonnet, rhyme

I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.

What hours, O what black hours we have spent

This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went!

When Dogs Rule  by REB LIVINGSTON

I watch the hound drape

a dead me with a red robe


instruct my child in morals,

correct my ethical shortcomings.

 

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