Denise Levertov: Clouds
as if death had lit a pale light
in your flesh, your flesh
was cold to my touch, or not cold
but cool, cooling
January 15, 2021 · 2 Comments
Denise Levertov: The Ache of Marriage
two by two in the ark of
the ache of it
October 9, 2020 · 2 Comments
Denise Levertov: At the Justice Department November 15, 1969
Brown gas-fog, white
beneath the street lamps.
Cut off on three sides, all space filled
with our bodies.
November 15, 2019 · Leave a comment
Dawn Potter: Speaking of Sorrow
My son is seventeen years old, and he has a broken heart. Of course I also had a broken heart when I was seventeen, but what does that matter? My … Continue reading
June 18, 2015 · 4 Comments
Ed Ochester: Poetry
I too dislike it the mystified truisms the dusty puzzle-prunes the theatrical exaggerations: “the brutal crescendo of woodworms”— yet I think of O’Hara’s delight in the endless pleasures of quotidian … Continue reading
March 4, 2015 · Leave a comment
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