Poems by Walter Heineman
|
Page 1
Page 2
Page 3
Page 4
Page 5
Page 6
Page 7
Page 8
Page 9
Page 10
Page 11
Page 12
Page 13
Page 14
Page 15
Page 16
Page 17
Page 18
Page 19
Page 20
Page 21
Page 22
Page 23
Page 24
Home
|
| maturing in the first century a.d. today |
| personal responsibility |
| planting a living garden |
| quid pro quo |
| the hair of the widow |
| the most striking thing |
| the mother devouring her son |
| the nature of death |
| the river is moving |
| who knew first |
| invocations |
| it was my friend pablo |
| poetry passes on the time |
| segovia |
| story with a moral |
| walking on hard ice |
| challenging me to a duel |
| moments occur |
| moving like a ghost |
| my other grandmother |
| no closer than it is further away |
| not gold coins on their eyes |
| slow moving storm |
| sounds of happiness |
| strange geometries |
| telling you to remain calm |
| the part of the brook |
| what else |
| beneath a winter sky |
| not everyone is fishing for souls |
| the first time i saw the glassblowers |
| the right thing to do |
| the two explanations |
| what great fortune |
| as we lost control |
| realpolitik |
| the spiritual perspective |
| samurai warrior |
| an untended universe |
| as god is my witness |
| the environmentalists |
| the war of northern aggression |
| a capture jar |
| justifications |
| listen again |
| mister massey |
| another day that makes me feel |
| her black party dress |
| reading the iliad |
| seated in a big chair |
| the gateless gate |
| before i could answer |
| every breath |
| i became a flesh candle |
| how many senses |
| all the things |
| going to the grocery store |
| windows |
| are they limited |
| community pool discoveries |
| our skins touched |
| the language of god |
| why try to count |
| a sublime scent |
| early evening |
| has it always been like this |
| on a day |
| the church is |
| today is going to be emotional |
| trickle down class distinctions |
| in the center |
| anyone telling you |
| divorces |
| i know what it really was |
| my voice |
| a bottle |
| cockroaches |
| in the ocean sorcery |
| its own special form |
| kill the yacht |
| she was professional |
| daily diary |
| i watch the small children |
| in a different room |
| it never occurred to me |
| lovers whose crushing lips |
| my wife had finally had enough |
| particularly in the evening |
| which stone |
| in and out of time |
| living for a while |
| moonlight fills the boat |
| their numerologists |
| nothing is more exhausting |
| perhaps there is no explanation |
| the first thing i imagine at the oyster bar |
| the motivational speaker |
| what was it |
Back to home |
