Philip Levine

(January 10, 1928 / Detroit, Michigan)

Philip Levine Poems

1. Breakfasts With Joachim 6/25/2014
2. You Can Have It 12/31/2013
3. And The Trains Go On 12/26/2014
4. On 52nd Street 1/10/2012
5. The Two 1/10/2012
6. During The War 1/10/2012
7. Our Valley 1/10/2012
8. Gospel 1/10/2012
9. Unholy Saturday 4/7/2011
10. Drum 1/10/2012
11. Baby Villon 1/10/2012
12. Blasting From Heaven 1/10/2012
13. Belle Isle, 1949 1/10/2012
14. Detroit, Tomorrow 1/10/2012
15. An Extraordinary Morning 1/10/2012
16. The House 1/13/2003
17. Sierra Kid 1/13/2003
18. The Grave Of The Kitchen Mouse 1/13/2003
19. The Return 1/13/2003
20. Passing Out 1/13/2003
21. Montjuich 1/13/2003
22. The Turning 1/13/2003
23. The Negatives 1/13/2003
24. Something Has Fallen 1/13/2003
25. A Story 1/10/2012
26. Magpiety 1/13/2003
27. The Rains 1/13/2003
28. Red Dust 1/13/2003
29. The Helmet 1/13/2003
30. In A Vacant House 1/13/2003
31. The New World 1/13/2003
32. The Rat Of Faith 1/13/2003
33. Salts And Oils 1/13/2003
34. Then 1/13/2003
35. The Distant Winter 1/13/2003
36. Late Moon 1/13/2003
37. Small Game 1/13/2003
38. Noon 1/13/2003
39. Holy Day 1/13/2003
40. The Unknowable 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Philip Levine

What Work Is

We stand in the rain in a long line
waiting at Ford Highland Park. For work.
You know what work is—if you're
old enough to read this you know what
work is, although you may not do it.
Forget you. This is about waiting,
shifting from one foot to another.
Feeling the light rain falling like mist
into your hair, blurring your vision
until you think you see your own brother
ahead of you, maybe ten places.
You rub your glasses with your fingers,
and of course it's someone else's brother,
narrower across the shoulders than
yours but with the same sad slouch,...

Read the full of What Work Is

Where We Live Now

1

We live here because the houses
are clean, the lawns run
right to the street

and the streets run away.
No one walks here.
No one wakens at night or dies.

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