If we see better through tiny,
grim glasses, we like to wear
tiny, grim glasses.
Our parents willed us this
view. It's tundra? We love it.
We travel our kind of
Renaissance: barnfuls of hay,
whole voyages of corn, and
a book that flickers its
halo in the parlor.
Poverty plus confidence equals
pioneers. We never doubted.
William Stafford's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (American Gothic by William Stafford )
- Within Poetical Interludes, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Look In Your Ear - Haiku, Robert Eckstein
- ~Someone Knows~, E Nigma
- In Egoless Silence We Bore..., Mr. Nobody
- Pleasure Of Desire, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- It is all true, gajanan mishra
- Poet Persona and YOU, which is which?, Mr. Nobody
- Saturated, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- I would never hurt you, The Princess is
- One Mode of Mortal Devotion, William Park
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