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

C. K. Williams

Words or wax, no end to our self-shaping, our forlorn awareness at the end of which is only more awareness. Was ever truth so malleable? Arid, inadhesive bits of matter. What might heal you? Love. What make you whole? Love. My love. — C. K. Williams, from  “Lost Wax,” Repair (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999)

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Anthology · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Fragment · Generation of '27 · Poetry · Spanish Culture · Spanish Literature

Federico García Lorca

They’ve bought me a shell.          It sings inside a sea on a map. My heart fills up with water with a little fish shadow & silver. They’ve brought me a shell. — Federico García Lorca, “Caracola,” Lorca/Blackburn: Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca chosen and translated by Paul Blackburn. Small Pr Distribution, 1979

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