He was the last man free
The rest were spies
He knew it by their hands
Their lips their eyes
And knew they watched him close
All day all night
His life a prime conjecture
In their sight
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At the Beach
By John Pauker
The children and I played At the green edge of land The ocean was of jade They buried me in sand They buried me in sand And I became their […]
Three Poems
I.From Venice was that afternoonThough our own land’s canal we viewed.There willows clove the bluish heatBy dropping leaf or two, gold green,And every tuft of hill beyondStood bright, distinct, as […]
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