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As for my photographs Print regardless What more can I tell them Print regardless
As for my photographs Print regardless What more can I tell them Print regardless
There is more continuity between North & South, Elizabeth Bishop's first book, and the nine new poems of Geography III, her latest, than the familiar and central image of travel. The new poems dramatize even more painstakingly what is perhaps the most fundamental issue in all of her poetry – seeing the ways nothing about…
the curve is a hill pending
What happens in the Plains States— It’s not by any brilliant design that The roads are symmetrical on the maps Straight up and down straight across There are few hills and homes It saves money and pavement to build That way it’s just roots common sense— If I braided the roads around Nebraska And Kansas…
On some days the mind refuses to play. Given paradise terrestrial, it can make nothing of it, craving instead its minimal dose of something lethal. But spring is arriving, the great forgiver, and it appears understood that we did not really wish to die. Blackfish Creek has gone into molt, sunken and gliding past its…
just a few miles before it went down it was covered with a cloud so that the edges of it were clear no rays and it looked like a huge full moon and I thought about looking into it pretending it was the moon and knowing all the time it was the sun looking in…
Pounding the piano keys with hammer Perhaps I’m just a little worn Anxious with my ideas about fashion Popular places on this planet Green water coastlining particularly Radical chic blondes Ho Chi minks Linked to gentle underworld types or else: Just linked to my lovely children: Well we can mild warm air and ferry ride…
I am not immune to your pleas of transformation. Today I burned all my socialist verse. Outdoors, a gust of wind lifted the oak leaves into a momentary show of hands. To build a life, brimming, like roses after rain, we pour contents from flask to flask, to float some dream. Yesterday we fed the…
The Editor to His Stoned Assistant: The pans are too slow and deliberate church after church in the snake August haze and those frigging teardrop doors cut ’em goddammit! Indian Extra: What we read comes through muffled no tempo no pace that sudden cold Stoned Assistant Editor: It’s strange the sense of the non word…
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