Cabbages catch at the moon. It is late summer, no rain, the pack of the soil cracks open, it is a hard summer. In the night the cabbages catch at the moon, the leaves drip silver, the rows of cabbages are series of little silver waterfalls...
The silver point of an evening star dropping toward the hammock of new moon over Lake Okoboji, over prairie waters in Iowa— it was framed in the lights just after twilight.
Creep up, moon, on the south Sky. Mark the moon path of this evening. The day must be counted. The new moon is a law. The little say-so of the moon must be listened to.
Lysley Tenorio, Laura van den Berg, and Caitlin Horrocks are a few of the standouts in the latest Best New American Voices and PEN/O. Henry Prize Stories anthologies.
In a valley late bees with whining gold Thread summer to the loose ends of sleep; A harvester pauses, surprised, in dreams of sheep, Across his back the ravellings of the sun.
In 1932 I was in France for the second time, and I hoped to accomplish what I had failed to do on my first visit four years earlier: an introduction to Paul Valéry.
