Newspaper says the boy killed by s… don’t say who. I know the mother,… gets up as usual, washes her face in cold water, and starts the coff… She stands by the window up there…

The day comes slowly in the railya… behind the ice factory. It broods… one cinder after another until eac… glows like lead or the eye of a do… possessed of no inner fire, the br…

The last of day gathers in the yellow parlor and drifts like fine dust across the face of the gilt-framed mirror

He made a line on the blackboard, one bold stroke from right to left diagonally downward and stood back to ask, looking as always at no on… in particular, “What have I done?…

Here in February, the fine dark branches of the almond begin to sprout tiny clusters of leaves, sticky to the touch. Not far off, about the length

Torn into light, you woke wrigglin… on a woman’s palm. Halved, quarter… shredded to the wind, you were the… that thrilled along the underbelly of a stone. Stilled in the frozen…

Pond snipe, bleached pine, rue wee… I walk by sedge and brown river ro… to where the old lake boats went d… All the ships are gone, the gray w… in upon itself. Even the channel’s

On March 1, 1958, four deserters… August Rein, Henri Bruette, Jac… government pay station at Orleansv… confession of Dauville the other t… was given his freedom and returned…

We live here because the houses are clean, the lawns run right to the street and the streets run away. No one walks here.

Los Angeles hums a little tune— trucks down the coast road for Monday Market

People sit numbly at the counter waiting for breakfast or service. Today it’s Hartford, Connecticut more than twenty-five years after the last death of Wallace Stevens…

Beaten like an old hound Whimpering by the stove, I complicate the pain That smarts with promised love. The oilstove falls, the rain,

Half an hour to dress, wide rubber… gauntlets to the elbow, a plastic… like a knight’s but with a little… that kept steaming over, and a res… to save my smoke-stained lungs. I…

Four bright steel crosses, universal joints, plucked out of the burlap sack — “the heart of the drive train,” the book says. Stars

The air lay soffly on the green fu… of the almond, it was April and I said, I begin again but my hands burned in the damp ea… the light ran between my fingers