Philip Levine

Detroit, Michigan
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My Fathers, The Baltic

Rating: 2.9
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
where I was born.
Now the cold winds
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COMMENTS
ANKWASA HARLORD 28 December 2019
I really enjoyed it. Love your poetry
1 0 Reply
Susan Williams 21 October 2015
I am officially a super-fan of Philip Levine's poetry. H cannot put his pen to paper without writing a real world
35 0 Reply
Alfred Pryszkulnik 28 March 2007
YOSSEL PRYSZKULNIK was my grand uncle and also PHILIP LEVINE is my cousin and write after a long trip in Spain (Momtjuich) for my father DAVID BER PRYSZKULNIK... 'The Survivor' with the french carrugated 'CITROEN' car to go from our home in NIMES to ARLES ...POETRY IS ALSO IN THE SAME TIME REALITY ALFRED PRYSZKULNIK
4 0 Reply

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