Bespeaking Fair Day, felicity, contentment. I tell you everything is great, says a pie, Great, and fun, and fine. And you smell nice, too, someone says. A full pound of round sound, all ahh, all good.

And whom do I call my enemy? An enemy must be worthy of engagement. I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking. It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind. The heart is the ...

We're not very creative but not adverse to rote-learning. Indeed, they can use us. But the “Model Minority” is a tease.

I snap the twig to try to trap the springing and I relearn the same lesson. You cannot make a keepsake of this season. Your heart’s not the source of that sort of sap, lacks what it takes to fuel, ...

Angelina Weld Grimké was born in Boston on February 27, 1880. She was the daughter of Archibald Grimké, who had been born a slave in Charleston, South Carolina, and Sarah Stanley Grimké, a white woman ...

Red slippers in a shop-window; and outside in the street, flaws of gray, windy sleet! Behind the polished glass the slippers hang in long threads of red, festooning from the ceiling like stalactites ...

To what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I ...

To celebrate the role correspondence has played in poets' development and writing lives—and inspired by Rainer Maria Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet, in which the poet replies to letters from a young ...

Poet, novelist, essayist, and playwright William Carlos Williams is often said to have been one of the principal poets of the Imagist movement.

I have been so great a lover: filled my days So proudly with the splendour of Love's praise, The pain, the calm, and the astonishment, Desire illimitable, and still content, And all dear names men use ...

Jealousy. Whispered weather reports. The lure of the land so strong it prompts gossip: we chatter like small birds at the edge of the ocean gray, foaming. Now sand under sand hides the buried world, ...

This poem first appeared in Sentience Literary Journal, Volume 2, Issue 1.