#Americans #Lesbian #PulitzerPrize #Women #FreeVerse #Metaphor
Tell me, Was Venus more beautiful Than you are, When she topped The crinkled waves,
Over the housetops, Above the rotating chimney-pots, I have seen a shiver of amethyst, And blue and cinnamon have flicker… A moment,
Great master! Boyish, sympathetic… Whose orbed and ripened genius lig… From life’s slim, twisted tendril… In crimson-sphered completeness; g… Of crystal portals through whose o…
You ask me for a sonnet. Ah, my D… Can clocks tick back to yesterday… Can cracked and fallen leaves reca… And leap up on the boughs, now sti… For your sake, I would go and see…
A yellow band of light upon the st… Pours from an open door, and makes… Pathway of bright gold across a sh… Of calm and liquid moonshine. Fro… Come shouts and streams of laughte…
A little garden on a bleak hillsid… Where deep the heavy, dazzling mou… Lies far into the spring. The sun… Is scarcely able to melt patches w… About the single rose bush. All d…
The day is fresh-washed and fair, and there is a smell of tulips and narcissus in the air. The sunshine pours in at the bath-room window and bores through the water in the bath-...
The stars hang thick in the apple… The south wind smells of the punge… Gold tulip cups are heavy with dew… The night’s for you, Sweetheart,… Starfire rains from the vaulted bl…
You—you— Your shadow is sunlight on a plate… Your footsteps, the seeding-place… Your hands moving, a chime of bell… The movement of your hands is the…
What instinct forces man to journe… Urged by a longing blind but domin… Nothing he sees can hold him, noth… His never failing eagerness. The… Setting in splendour every night h…
This afternoon was the colour of w… The trees glittered with the tumbl… The sidewalks shone like alleys of… And the houses ran along them laug… Under a tree in the park,
Dear Virgin Mary, far away, Look down from Heaven while I pra… Open your golden casement high, And lean way out beyond the sky. I am so little, it may be
The Fool Errant sat by the highwa… And his gaze wandered up and his g… A vigorous youth, but with no wish… Yet his longing was great for the… He whistled a little frivolous tun…
You —you — Your shadow is sunlight on a plate… Your footsteps, the seeding-place… Your hands moving, a chime of bell… The movement of your hands is the…
'T is you that are the music, not… The song is but a door which, open… Lets forth the pent-up melody insi… Your spirit’s harmony, which clear… Sings but of you. Throughout your…