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Filter: Subject of dwellings
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| Description: | I had to know the point to which the path was tracked and when the definition would cease to be my own |
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| Description: | Unkind to speak of the ancestral vocabulary as dream-talk, unkind to wake the dreamer |
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| Description: | The Little Bluebirds — has anyone expressed it better than Judy Garland singing . . . why, oh why, can't I |
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| Description: | The visionaries: slightly seeing as many improvements as there are egos to reckon with |
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| Description: | The style of reachings, temporal or spiritual, for transformation of the earth. The chapel of Rockford Female Seminary, later Rockford College, 1889-1892... |
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| Description: | Well-scrubbed proprieties, in no danger except the possible over-minding of their own manners or being out-voted by Activists |
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| Description: | Sunday was the day when, to a stranger, almost nothing happened. But to us it was the best day of all |
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| Description: | There are Gothic ways the light comes drifting through a forest clothes fit, things pad themselves stone rests on stone and legends long persist, ... |
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| Description: | Our side of the fence is all dovetail — where they winked and upset the story-book, that's over on your side |
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| Description: | If you will tell me, then, the things that you have read I shall not have heard of them but I will read them for your sake There is a meeting ... |
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| Description: | In the letter was the hope that you were well For shorter hours A newer coat And Grace when there was any Grace to tell |
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| Description: | The buildup of Answers took many years On Saturday the band was stilled and Monday morning they tore it down leaving front and back of another... |
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| Description: | Always looking at the vacancy in that great sea of people All there ever was was a greeting card and that one a mirage |
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| Description: | There used to be a quiet. It wasn't deafness, it was roses But they don't make it any more They think it was a toy |
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| Description: | White horses, white fences that money can't buy |
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| Description: | Everybody was wonderful Stars kept rising, pink and gold Trailing threads of breathless music barely out of reach Hand to hand around the n... |
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| Description: | The earth is never still, but speaks her lovers lying twined among the roots of grasses, lying long stretched out from hill to hill There wher... |
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| Description: | A word without momentum that settled on a note of calm caught wind and spun its venom into froth, to cool a Sunday afternoon in June |
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| Description: | Put aside anything so futile All that fermented time spent and blackened, much obscured, is now restored with cheese and wine |
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| Description: | Every macho-mind knows exactly what and where it is — up front, smoking hot, born to circumstance, savage watchman of the several thousand Rights |
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