Built long ago, old sills rotting in mud, filled now with soft ash from a thousand fires that warmed me, ash settled indelibly on these books, never to be clean again, and on these shoulders and hands. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: COONEY POTTER by EDGAR LEE MASTERS WINTER GARDEN THEATRE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A VOICE FROM THE SWEAT-SHOPS (A HYMN WITH RESPONSES) by LOUIS UNTERMEYER |