#English #Women
Among the blight-killed eucalypts,… trees and bushes rusted by Christm… the yards and hillsides exhausted… certain airy white blossoms punctu… reappeared, and dense clusters of…
Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appearrs, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted ...
The Rav of Northern White Russia declined… in his youth, to learn the language of birds, because the extraneous did not interest hi…
I was welcomed here—clear gold of late summer, of opening autumn, the dawn eagle sunning himself on… the mountain revealing herself unc… tinted apricot as she looked west,
Brown gas-fog, white beneath the street lamps. Cut off on three sides, all space… with our bodies. Bodies that stumble
Fully occupied with growing—that’s the amaryllis. Growing especially at night: it would take only a bit more patience than I’ve… to sit keeping watch with it till…
An absolute patience. Trees stand up to their knees in fog. The fog
What is green in me darkens, muscadine. If woman is inconstant, good, I am faithful to ebb and flow, I fall
The old wooden steps to the front… where I was sitting that fall morn… when you came downstairs, just awa… and my joy at sight of you (emergi… into golden day—
The tree of knowledge was the tree… That’s why the taste of it drove us from Eden. That fruit was meant to be dried and milled t… for use a pinch at a time, a condi…
The ache of marriage: thigh and tongue, beloved, are heavy with it, it throbs in the teeth We look for communion
Rose Red’s hair is brown as fur and shines in firelight as she pre… supper of honey and apples, curds… for the bear, and leaves it ready on the hearth-stone.
Something is very gently, invisibly, silently, pulling at me-a thread or net of threads finer than cobweb and as
Did the people of Viet Nam use lanterns of stone? Did they hold ceremonies to reverence the opening of buds? Were they inclined to quiet laught…
White dawn. Stillness. When… I took it for a sea-wind, coming t… of salt, of treeless horizons. but… didn’t stir; the leaved of my brot… unmoving.