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City Lifeexpand_moreThe library is inhabited by spirits that come out of the pages at night.
Something has to be what this is, old and primitive, and it sounds like this.
Time is changing. November 1. Clocks back one hour. New season.
“There’s life after birth! That’s what jails and lethal injections are for!”
Sit beside me. Old country, I am hopeful and troubadour.
Anything can happen because everything happens in New York.
The heron returns; the sky veils her stars; then bares them.
The knife in my mother’s hand flakes into penny-stained rust.
This poem showcases Helen's ambition, clarity, and wide talent.
He would sneak into my room, we would have sex, he would sneak out.
Though I’ve never killed anything myself, I’ve been complicit.
My shadow is cast by the paleness of a certain star.
Toe over toe we went, arms held out like tightrope walkers.
He betook himself to the metropolis to become a literary man, of course.
Ten years ago, when I was in college, my father divorced my mother and said he wanted me to become responsible for her. That is why I fled to Italy.
The graffiti suggests the most essential story of New Haven.
Riding back from her studio, Ivy thought, I’ll just stop for a minute.
How many gods do you believe in? How many good men?
It is a city of sea, sun, boulevards, strolling beauties, life-altering food.
“I always arrive late at the office, but I make up for it by leaving early.”
Later in the pale of dawn your hair brushed across my forearm.
Instead of stained glass, give us an oil slick on the New Jersey turnpike.
After the password was given, the question remained. My name.
Now he was all out of dreams, out of rage, expectations, and money too.
Doisneau might have eyed and shot us for how brazenly we kissed.
She was wanting to be noticed as a person not wanting to be noticed.
After moving, I began to look at the images and piece them together.
Why don’t we just get drunk and walk down the middle of Fifth Avenue.
