By River 瑩瑩 Dandelion
you had to know the currents, & the sun
stay shallow to keep warm in the waters.
you had to believe you…
stay shallow to keep warm in the waters.
you had to believe you…
Explore Poems: Pantoum
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- By River 瑩瑩 Dandelionwe wore watermelon husks to hide
lost cargo floating east to hong kong
water lilies & crickets our last… - By Kimiko HahnIambic lines drafted in silt
are revised when glaciers melt
so verses ending in heroic couplet
are more… - By Natalie E. IllumA swimming pool hotter than bathwater.
Chlorine haze. My mother along the edge
encouraging me, with … - By Kiandra JimenezGranma cautioned in a kitchen off Century and Hoover:
Never throw your hair away. Burn it. Till yellow… - By Chip LivingstonAccept my need and let me call you brother,
Slate blue oyster, wet sand crustacean,
In your hurrying… - By Donald JusticeOur lives avoided tragedy
Simply by going on and on,
Without end and with little apparent meaning.
Oh… - By John Ashbery1.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of society
working as a team. They didn’t just… - By Natalie DiazHe sat cross-legged, weeping on the steps
when Mom unlocked and opened the front door.
O God, he said… - By Randall MannIf there is a word in the lexicon of love,
it will not declare itself.
The nature of words is to fail… - By Evie Shockleydreaming the lives of the ancestors,
you awake, justly terrified of this world:
you could dance underwater… - By Sasha SteensenPerhaps the universe is an extinguished building with blue banners strung along and the forest, more…
- By Hailey LeithauserO, she says (because she loves to say O),
O to this cloud-break that ravels the night,
O to this moon… - By Randall MannThis is what he dreams of: a map of burned land, a mound of dirt in the early century’s winter. A map…
- By Blas FalconerThe driver has no knife. He has no knife, no,
you think, and lower your head into his car.
A ride in… - By Maria HummelDays you are sick, we get dressed slow,
find our hats, and ride the train.
We pass a junkyard and the… - By Carolyn WellsOf making many books there is no end,
Though myriads have to deep oblivion gone;
Each day new manuscripts… - By A.E. StallingsSleep, she will not linger:
She turns her moon-cold shoulder.
With no ring on her finger,
You cannot…