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Ruth Stone

Summer/Fall 1999

This Space

By Ruth Stone

Rushing past us faster than this with a few glitches, everything you love, like a film in reverse. Can this fist in your skull hold all that? Like the leaves […]

Summer/Fall 1999

The Word Though as a Coupler

By Ruth Stone

Though is a thick syllable, a qualifier, a gate slowly opening, and can be rimmed with replaceable shark’s teeth. Or tongued although, may dance, bursting into esters, geometric pollen or […]

Fall 1956

Memoir

By Ruth Stone

Out of the shadows from the lamp at night we’d see The lines of Braque on the walls, Or where the shadow cut across the books, the free Formality of […]

Fall 1956

Ballet

By Ruth Stone

Three who are one in blood Without the blessing of sun, Wade in the brake, a flood Down the hill, to run The pheasant cock, gamely hid, Male iridescence quelled […]

Summer 1953

Speculation

By Ruth Stone

In the coolness here I care Not for the down pressed noises overhead, I hear in my pearly bone the wear Of marble under the rain; nothing is truly dead, […]

Summer 1953

The Parents

By Ruth Stone

Now I would say the fancier of my goods Had better be aware of second hand, Other decades. By the river of murder the woods Are airy green, and close […]