
The Last Catalogue
And what we boxed and bagged (reporting late but dutifully for duty) was all you’d chosen across pages, years, willed together but not willed away— the harvest to be scattered, now, to aunts and uncles, cheerful junkmen, the alleged cousin, the lady from the curio shop, the doorstep of Goodwill. We…
The Poetry Foundation
Arrival in Montpellier
Keyed up after a sleepless flight, we stared at the Place de la Comédie: the stone Graces glowing pink at night; the tram, sleek palms, and brasserie; the guitarist cycling through “La vie en rose,” “Imagine,” and “Yesterday” as the carousel shrieked deliriously ... Slowly our wider circle learned…
The Poetry Foundation
Arrival in Montpellier
Keyed up after a sleepless flight, we stared at the Place de la Comédie: the stone Graces glowing pink at night; the tram, sleek palms, and brasserie; the guitarist cycling through “La vie en rose,” “Imagine,” and “Yesterday” as the carousel shrieked deliriously ... Slowly our wider circle learned…
The Poetry Foundation
Austin Allen — Bad Lilies
A poem by Austin Allen
Bad Lilies