I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.
Showing the best and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss I am silent, and go bathe and admire myself.
And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.
Tenderly will I use you curling grass, It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers' laps.
” Then he looks at the snow ahead and imagines himself as a bow with an arrow drawn, ready to accelerate. By JULIE SATOW Tenants of a Brooklyn building were forced out when a synagogue was built in their backyard, bricking up windows and sealing emergency exits.
By MARGARET CHEATHAM WILLIAMS, ALEXANDRA GARCIA and ANDREW KHOSRAVANI By KALY SOTO What American teenagers are learning from online porn.
Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the vegetation.
Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic, And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones, Growing among black folks as among white, Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I receive them the same.
And what do you think has become of the women and children?