Night calls to the sandhills and gathers them under her. She pushes away cities because their sharp lights hurt her soft breast. Even candles make a sore place when they stick in the night. — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
Better--while life is quick And every pain immense and joy supreme, And all I have and am Flames upward to the dream ... Than… — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
I shall know you, secrets by the litter you have left and by your bloody footprints. — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
Life You have been good to me… You have not made yourself too dear to juggle with. — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
As for the common men apart, Who sweat to keep their common breath, And have no hour for books or art-- What dreams have… — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
Out of the night you burn, Manhattan, In a vesture of gold-- Spun of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying-- Gold at the uttermost circles… — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
Let me cradle myself back Into the darkness Of the half shapes ... Of the cauled beginnings ... Let me stir the attar of… — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
Night calls to the sandhills and gathers them under her. She pushes away cities because their sharp lights hurt her soft breast. Even candles… — Lola Ridge Copy Share Image
