Philip Levine

(January 10, 1928 / Detroit, Michigan)

Philip Levine Poems

41. How Much Earth 1/13/2003
42. I Sing The Body Electric 1/13/2003
43. I Won, You Lost 1/13/2003
44. In A Light Time 1/13/2003
45. In A Vacant House 1/13/2003
46. Last Words 1/13/2003
47. Late Light 1/13/2003
48. Late Moon 1/13/2003
49. M. Degas Teaches Art &Amp; Science At Durfee Intermediate School--Detroit, 1942 1/13/2003
50. Mad Day In March 1/13/2003
51. Magpiety 1/13/2003
52. Making It Work 1/13/2003
53. Milkweed 1/13/2003
54. Montjuich 1/13/2003
55. My Fathers, The Baltic 1/13/2003
56. Night Thoughts Over A Sick Child 1/13/2003
57. Night Words 1/13/2003
58. Noon 1/13/2003
59. Ode For Mrs. William Settle 1/13/2003
60. On 52nd Street 1/10/2012
61. On The Meeting Of GarcÍA Lorca And Hart Crane 1/13/2003
62. On The Murder Of Lieutenant Jose Del Castillo 1/13/2003
63. Once 1/13/2003
64. Our Valley 1/10/2012
65. Passing Out 1/13/2003
66. Picture Postcard From The Other World 1/13/2003
67. Premonition At Twilight 1/13/2003
68. Red Dust 1/13/2003
69. Salts And Oils 1/13/2003
70. Sierra Kid 1/13/2003
71. Small Game 1/13/2003
72. Smoke 1/13/2003
73. Something Has Fallen 1/13/2003
74. Songs 1/13/2003
75. The Dead 1/13/2003
76. The Distant Winter 1/13/2003
77. The Drunkard 1/13/2003
78. The End Of Your Life 1/13/2003
79. The Grave Of The Kitchen Mouse 1/13/2003
80. The Helmet 1/13/2003
Best Poem of Philip Levine

An Abandoned Factory, Detroit

The gates are chained, the barbed-wire fencing stands,
An iron authority against the snow,
And this grey monument to common sense
Resists the weather. Fears of idle hands,
Of protest, men in league, and of the slow
Corrosion of their minds, still charge this fence.

Beyond, through broken windows one can see
Where the great presses paused between their strokes
And thus remain, in air suspended, caught
In the sure margin of eternity.
The cast-iron wheels have stopped; one counts the spokes
Which movement blurred, the struts inertia fought, ...

Read the full of An Abandoned Factory, Detroit

My Fathers, The Baltic

Along the strand stones,
busted shells, wood scraps,
bottle tops, dimpled
and stainless beer cans.
Something began here
a century ago,
a nameless disaster,
perhaps a voyage
to the lost continent

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