I Don’t Understand Poetry
Where are these people walking? They are walking in a poem. But it is not my poem, so I do […]
Where are these people walking? They are walking in a poem. But it is not my poem, so I do […]
She isn’t mine. I am alone in love. Inside my mind and soul, I moan in love. The sound
The car broke down five miles from home,
Here, said the ocean to the ship And here, said the towering sails to the wind It was
They travel from darkness, speaking in tongues— a language of strings and waves. They lug bits of this and
I can’t remember the question, exactly. It was August, dead season, the only blooms fat and angry and dead if