Poems by Philip Levine
The Turning
... Touched once, like a plum, I turned ...
Salts And Oils
... Bummed a ride in from Mitchell Field and had beet borscht ...
Holy Day
... but it's over. Before her on the table ...
Small Game
... What's more, under all, I'm white and soft, more like yourself than ...
The Grave Of The Kitchen Mouse
... The black teeth of the moon The sun drilled over and over ...
Late Moon
... In her chair undoing brassiere and garters ...
Passing Out
... flesh, while I, standing, fazed, pull for air, losing the battle ...
Then
... What a day for strolling in the park! Refusing the chair ...
Green Thumb
... Heartsick and tired, to you, Green Thumb, I prayed ...
In A Vacant House
... not to fear what is not there becomes the end, the last brute ...
Berenda Slough
... constant before the stunned eye's insatiable gaze, shall find ...
Gangrene
... " When two of the beaten passed in the hall they did not know ...
In A Light Time
... off the moon. No one is awake and yet ...
Noon
... so long." Up ahead ...
Montjuich
... as oil. As I descend step by step ...
