collected poems | letters to a young poet
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The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning Go, sit upon the lofty hill, And turn your eyes around, Where waving woods and waters wild Do hymn an autumn
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain, – Dawn will find them still again; This has neither wax nor wane, Neither stop nor start. People dress and go to...
Nikky Finney 2
When I was young, the penis crop was plentiful. Every year, a bountiful harvest. Then came hot flashes, mood swings, sleeplessness, and a long—very lo...