Tags » American Literature

Rosmarie Waldrop

Even in a state of geometrical grace we cannot see time as it is, only as it passes. So the river shows us while softly disfiguring our waterlogged bodies on the way to vast projects of war. 10 more words

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Libba Bray

I am a jumble of passions, misgivings, and wants. It seems that I am always in a state of wishing and rarely in a state of contentment. 12 more words

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Wendell Berry

How to be a Poet

(to remind myself)

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge, 113 more words

Poetry

Nicole Krauss

They collected the world in small handfuls. When the sky grew dark they parted with leaves in their hair. — Nicole Krauss, The History of Love… 8 more words

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Charles Bukowski

the last cigarettes are smoked, the loaves are sliced,
and lest this be taken for wry sorrow,
drown the spider in wine.

you are much more than simply dead: 46 more words

Poetry

F. Scott Fitzgerald

I wasn’t actually in love, but I felt a certain tender curiosity. — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby. (Charles Scribner’s Sons April 10, 1925)

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William Carlos Williams

It is the sting of snow, the burning liquor of
the moonlight, the rush of rain in the gutters packed
with dead leaves: go to sleep, go to sleep. 15 more words

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