JOYCE CAROL OATES
Precise Embodiments.
Running Fluid River.
Flowing.
Errors.
The Typewriter.
Shine Little Glow Worm.
Glimmer.
PHILIP LEVINE
Thirty five years ago
I sat in a small room
with Robert Lowell
THOMAS PYNCHON
Grippe Espagnole
Stravinsky’s L’Histoire du Soldat
Post-World War I spiritual malaise
The flu or something
GERTRUDE STEIN
Indirectness ruins every self-conscious lonely writer.
I want you to write for the Saturday Evening Post.
EUDORA WELTY
My teeth.
My hair.
My face.
DON DELILLO
I might want rapture matched with danger
I might I might
I just might
ANTON CHEKHOV
Flashed like a bright star
and the black shadow
of a dog or a wolf
rolled by like a ball
More poetry at Used Furniture.
