From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were; I have not seen As others saw; I could not bring My passions from a…
By: Lawrence Raab Making something the way it was— what could I have been thinking months ago when I wrote that line in my notebook?…
By: Anne Sexton Someone lives in a cave eating his toes, I know that much. Someone little lives under a bush pressing an empty Coca-Cola can…
By: Timothy Murphy The night you died, I dreamed you came to camp to hear confession from an Eagle Scout tortured by forty years of…
By: Allen Ginsberg Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, while I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich Village….
Poet and essayist Adrienne Rich was one of America’s foremost public intellectuals. Widely read and hugely influential, Rich’s career spanned seven decades and has hewed…
By: Sylvia Plath On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its…
By: Slyvia Plath All right, let’s say you could take a skull and break it The way you’d crack a clock; you’d crush the bone…
By: Franz Kafka Often when I see dresses with many pleats and frills and flounces, draped beautifully over beautiful bodies, then I think to myself…
By: Maya Angelou The free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wings in…
