American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry

Edward Hirsch

For the Sleepwalkers Tonight I want to say something wonderful for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith in their legs, so much faith in the invisible arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path that leads to the stairs instead of the window, the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror. I love the… Continue reading Edward Hirsch

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American Culture · American Literature · Christian Literature · Classic · Collection · Comparative Religion · Essay · Excerpt · Paraphrase · Passage · Poetics · Quote

Thomas Merton

All true poetic genius tends to generate prophetic insight. The poet cannot help but listen to awakening voices that are not yet audible to the rest of men. – Thomas Merton, from “Rubén Darío,” The Literary Essays of Thomas Merton. (New Directions Publishing Corporation March 1, 1985)

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American Culture · Art · Autobiographical · Contemporary · Diary · Excerpt · Journal · Memoir · Paraphrase · Passage · Quote · Visual Art

Anne Truitt

The most demanding part of living a lifetime as an artist is the strict discipline of forcing oneself to work steadfastly along the nerve of one’s own most intimate sensitivity. – Anne Truitt, Daybook: The Journal of an Artist. (Penguin Books March 6, 1984) Originally published September 12th 1982

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

Charles Wright

Knot by knot I untie myself from the past And let it rise away from me like a balloon. What a small thing it becomes. What a bright tweak at the vanishing point, blue on blue. – Charles Wright, from “Arkansas Traveller,” The Other Side of the River. (Vintage; 1st Vintage Books ed edition January… Continue reading Charles Wright

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry · Southern Gothic · Southern Literature

Frank Stanford

I am thinking of the dead Who are still with us. They are not like us, they are Young and beautiful, On their way in the rain To meet their lovers. On their way with their dark umbrellas, Always laughing, so quick, Like limbs flying back In a boat before night, So constant, Like the… Continue reading Frank Stanford

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