#Americans #Lesbian #PulitzerPrize #Women
My heart is like a cleft pomegrana… Bleeding crimson seeds And dripping them on the ground. My heart gapes because it is ripe… And its seeds are bursting from it…
On winter nights beside the nurser… We read the fairy tale, while glow… Builded its pictures. There befor… We saw the vaulted hall of traceri… Uprear itself, the distant ceiling…
Must all of worth be travailled fo… Life’s brightest stars rise from a… Must years go by in sad uncertaint… Leaving us doubting whose the conq… Are we or Fate the victors? Time…
Naughty little speckled trout, Can’t I coax you to come out? Is it such great fun to play In the water every day? Do you pull the Naiads’ hair
My heart is tuned to sorrow, and t… Vibrate most readily to minor chor… Searching and sad; my mind is stuf… Which voice the passion and the ac… Illusions beating with their baffl…
Where else in all America are we… As in this hall? White columns polished like glass, A dome and a dome, A balcony and a balcony,
I have painted a picture of a ghos… Upon my kite, And hung it on a tree. Later, when I loose the string And let it fly,
A face seen passing in a crowded s… A voice heard singing music, large… And from that moment life is chang… Become of more heroic temper, meet To freely ask and give, a man comp…
WHEN night drifts along the stre… And sifts down between the uneven… My mind begins to peek and peer. It plays at ball in old, blue Chi… And shakes wrought dice-cups in P…
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…
Have at you, you Devils! My back’s to this tree, For you’re nothing so nice That the hind-side of me Would escape your assault.
My Grandpapa lives in a wonderful… With a great many windows and door… There are stairs that go up, and s… And such beautiful, slippery floor… But of all of the rooms, even moth…
The throats of the little red trum… And the clangour of brass beats ag… They bray and blare at the burning… Red! Red! Coarse notes of red, Trumpeted at the blue sky.
If I could catch the green lanter…
All day long I have been working, Now I am tired I call: “Where are you?” But there is only the oak-tree rus… The house is very quiet,