American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Modernism · Poetry

Wallace Stevens

Final Soliloquy of the Interior Paramour Light the first light of evening, as in a room In which we rest and, for small reason, think The world imagined is the ultimate good. This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous. It is in that thought that we collect ourselves, Out of all the indifferences, into one thing:… Continue reading Wallace Stevens

Rate this:

American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Galway Kinnell

I would blow the flame out of your silver cup, I would suck the rot from your fingernail, I would brush your sprouting hair of the dying light, I would scrape the rust off your ivory bones, I would help death escape through the little ribs of your body, I would alchemize the ashes of… Continue reading Galway Kinnell

Rate this:

Classic · Excerpt · Fiction · Latin-American Culture · Latin-American Literature · Magical Realism · Novel · Paraphrase · Quote · Spanish Literature

Carlos Fuentes

You, yesterday, did the usual things, just as any day, You don’t know if it’s worth remembering. You would prefer to remember, there lying in the half-darkness of the bedroom, not what has happened already but what is going to happen. In your half-darkness your eyes would prefer to look ahead, not behind, and they… Continue reading Carlos Fuentes

Rate this:

American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Commentary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Greg Sellers

And one by one as the fireflies fade, and a longing for them arcs into an empty ache, the view becomes nothing but darkness waiting for something beyond memory—a glimmer, a climb, the night sky distilled in shine. —Greg Sellers, from “And the Darkness Comprehended It Not,” Zócalo Public Square (3 April 2015)

Rate this:

Anthology · Classic · Collection · Decadent Movement · Excerpt · French Culture · French Literature · Passage · Poetry · Prose Poetry · Symbolism

Arthur Rimbaud

I loved desert, scorched orchards, sun-bleached shops, warm drinks. I dragged myself through stinking streets and, eyes closed, offered myself to the sun, god of fire. —Arthur Rimbaud, from “Alchemy of the Word,” Rimbaud Complete, transl. by Wyatt Mason (Modern Library, 2013)

Rate this:

American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Faith · Inspirational · Motivational · Nature · Passage · Poetry · Spiritual

Mary Oliver

Sometimes the great bones of my life feel so heavy, all the tricks my body knows – the opposable thumbs, the kneecaps, and the mind clicking and clicking- don’t seem enough to carry me through this world and I think: how I would like to have wings- blue ones- —Mary Oliver, from “Spring Azure,” New… Continue reading Mary Oliver

Rate this: