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May Swenson's Poetry, by title

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  • Monday
        The world is a ball of water.
    225 lines
  • It’s about
    the ball,
    63 lines
  • Stop bleeding    said the knife
    I would if I    could said the cut.
    43 lines
  • Blue, but you are Rose, too,
    and buttermilk, but with blood
    32 lines, 1 comment
  •     A mouth.  Can blow or breathe,
          be a funnel, or Hello.
    40 lines
  • “Feel me to do right,” our father said on his deathbed.
    We did not quite know—in fact, not at all—what he meant.
    40 lines
  • Beards of  water
                          some of them have.
    29 lines
  •     Fruit without a stone, its shiny
        pulp is clear green. Inside, tiny
    49 lines
  • When in the mask of night there shone that cut,
    we were riddled. A probe reached down
    30 lines
  • She sat on a shelf,
    her breasts two bellies
    74 lines
  • A smudge for the horizon
    that, on a clear day, shows
    165 lines
  • Body my house
    my horse my hound
    21 lines, 1 comment
  • I show her how to put her arms around me,
    but she’s much too small.
    37 lines
  • I like being in your apartment, and not disturbing anything.
    As in the woods I wouldn't want to move a tree,
    23 lines
  • The popcorn is greasy, and I forgot to bring a Kleenex.
    A pill that’s a bomb inside the stomach of a man inside
    31 lines, 2 comments
  • The flag is folded
    lengthwise, and lengthwise again,
    32 lines
  • What does love look like? We know
    the shape of death. Death is a cloud
    35 lines, 4 comments
  • We move by means of our mud bumps.
    We bubble as do the dead but more slowly.
    16 lines
  • The binocular owl,
    fastened to a limb
    24 lines, 2 comments
  • In the pond in the park
    all things are doubled;
    64 lines
  • Women                                Or they
     
    34 lines
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