Ursula K. Le Guin (1929-2018) was the author of numerous novels, volumes of short stories, collections of essays, books for children, volumes of poetry and translation, and received many honors and awards including Hugo, Nebula, National Book Award, PEN-Malamud.
Fiction
Autumn 1990
Bill Weisler
He did not often go down on the beach. It was too big, too wide and flat, and the water worried him. Why did the breakers always come in, even […]
Poetry
Spring 1987
Spring, Robinsons’ Farm
If you leave me long enough alone it will just come talking its way out like the creek today I found below bare trees coming out from under a rock […]
Poetry
Spring 1987
Pane
You have painted (out) me consenting as a silver film molecularly thin backed by a slick of black. Where am I? Look and you’ll see yourself clearly (and the backward […]
Poetry
Spring 1987
In That Ohio
They ring bells in the marshes, little bells in the evening in choruses. It is trilling season. A bird before sunrise sings B, B-flat, B, over and over and all […]
Poetry
Autumn 1979
Wordhoard
The dragon splays her belly on the gold, Gross hoarder, hot-eyed miser, Holding all the earth can give to hold And none the wiser. Dumbness deadness darkness is your nest. […]
Poetry
Autumn 1979
Simple Hill
As I went over Simple Hill I saw a woman dancing Give it away, away, away Give it away to the west wind The wind came blowing off the sea […]
Poetry
Autumn 1979
Vita Amicae
When you were rain you fell when you were cup you held when you were whole you broke loud, loud you spoke when you were bell When you were way […]
Poetry
Autumn 1979
Amazed
The center is not where the center is but where I will be when I follow the lines of stones that wind about a center that is not there but there. […]
Poetry
Autumn 1979
The Mind Is Still
The mind is still. The gallant books of lies are never quite enough. Ideas are a whirl of mazy flies over the pigs’ trough. Words are my matter. I have […]
Poetry
Autumn 1979
Self
You cannot measure the circumference but there are centerpoints: stones, and a woman washing at a ford, the water runs red-brown from what she washes. The mouths of caves. The […]
Poetry
Summer 1979
The Dancing at Tillai
The Night This is Kālī’s day the woman in my sleep said This is Kālī’s day O Mother please please Mother children weep let it not be till tomorrow the […]
Fiction
Winter 1979
Malheur County
“Edward,” said his mother-in-law, “face the facts. You can’t withdraw from your life. People aren’t going to let you. You’re too useful, too likeable, too goodlooking even, though you don’t […]
Spring 2013
In that Ohio
From The Kenyon Review, New Series, Spring, 1987, Vol. IX, No. 2 They ring bells in the marshes, little bells in the evening in choruses. It is trilling season. A […]