Author: Joseph Brodsky

The stone-built villages of England. A cathedral bottled in a pub window. Cows dispersed across fields. Monuments to kings. A […]

The perilous yellow sun follows with its slant eyes Masts of the shuddered grove steaming up to capsize In the […]

A hotel in whose ledgers departures are more prominent than arrivals. With wet Koh-i-noors the October rain Strokes what’s left […]

Everything has its limit, including sorrow. A windowpane stalls a stare. Nor does a grill abandon A leaf. One may […]

As though the mercury’s under its tongue, it won’t Talk. As though with the mercury in its sphincter, Immobile, by […]