Unsung Her words trickle from her tongue like fire Blaze through the darkness, igniting night Still air rattles from the heat, bubbles up spills
KEWPIES ON PARADE Here come the kewpies to the fete. What jewels, what gowns, what suits. No wonder throngs of gawkers wait Along the
Three Copper Men Lowell was a howl when we played the old dive with its cheap shot tequilas and its strip-joint jive.
When I’m dead I won’t regret it, they say at Sunday School but I say we’ll see though not to my teacher there, I keep it
Spring is First All Green Spring is first all green; can’t think of flowering without first being simply – simple – green. Summer
ADOPTION Without choice, I, evicted from the womb Not cast aside, despite what I would see, Too soon carried into an unknown room