And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
The Pool Players.
Seven at the Golden Shovel.
From the Archive of Recorded Poetry at the Library of Congress The twenty-ninth person appointed Consultant in Poetry at the Library of Congress, Pulitzer Prize-winning author Gwendolyn Brooks reads selections … Continue reading →