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9 de jun. de 2024 · Boy Breaking Glass. To Marc Crawford. from whom the commission. Whose broken window is a cry of art. ( success, that winks aware. as elegance, as a treasonable faith) is raw: is sonic: is old-eyed première. Our beautiful flaw and terrible ornament. Our barbarous and metal little man.
26 de jun. de 2024 · To Be In Love. Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well. Through his eyes. A cardinal is red. A sky is blue. Suddenly you know he knows too. The winter, or a light spring weather. His hand to take your hand is overmuch.
21 de jun. de 2024 · A Sunset Of The City. Already I am no longer looked at with lechery or love. Are gone from the house. And night is night. The genuine thing. Because sun stays and birds continue to sing. It is summer-gone that I see, it is summer-gone. The grasses forgetting their blaze and consenting to brown. It is a real chill out.
26 de jun. de 2024 · Jessie Mitchell-s Mother. Into her mother-s bedroom to wash the ballooning body. -My mother is jelly-hearted and she has a brain of jelly: Sweet, quiver- soft, irrelevant. Not essential. Only a habit would cry if she should die. A pleasant sort of fool without the least iron. . . .
26 de jun. de 2024 · In the time of detachment, in the time of the vivid heather and affectionate evil, in the time of oral. grave grave legalities of hate - all real. walks our prime registered reproach and seal. Our successful moral. The good man. Watches our bogus roses, our rank wreath, our. love 's unreliable cement, the gray.
7 de jun. de 2024 · Gwendolyn Brooks was an American poet and writer, born on 7 June 1917- She was the first African American to win the Pulitzer Prize for Literature for her book of poems “Annie Allen”. She said: “Very early in life I became fascinated with the wonders language can achieve.And I began playing with words.” Three quotes: Truth-tellers are not always palatable.
26 de jun. de 2024 · In little jars and cabinets of my will. I bid, Be firm till I return from hell. I am very hungry. I am incomplete. The puny light. I keep my eyes pointed in; To honey and bread old purity could love. I hold my honey and I store my bread In little jars and cabinets of my will. I label clearly, and each latch and lid I bid, Be firm till I return ...
