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William Carlos Williams

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field the whole pageantry of the year was awake tingling near the edge of the sea concerned with itself sweating in the sun that melted the wings’ wax unsignificantly off the coast there was a… Continue reading William Carlos Williams

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P. S. Baber

Kansas afternoons in late summer are peculiar and wondrous things. Often they are pregnant, if not over-ripe, with a pensive and latent energy that is utterly incapable of ever finding an adequate release for itself. This results in a palpable, almost frenetic tension that hangs in the air just below the clouds. By dusk, spread… Continue reading P. S. Baber

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Helen Bevington

The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow liked the month of September. Shelley flourished in the hot months. Some poets, like Wordsworth, have gone outdoors to… Continue reading Helen Bevington

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American Counterculture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry · The Beat Generation · The San Francisco Renaissance

Kenneth Rexroth

Move softly, do not move at all, but hold me, Deep, still, deep within you, while time slides away, As this river slides beyond this lily bed, And the thieving moments fuse and disappear In our mortal, timeless flesh. — Kenneth Rexroth, from “Floating,” The Complete Poems of Kenneth Rexroth (Copper Canyon Press, 2004)

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Marcel Proust

We try to discover in things, which become precious to us on that account, the reflection of what our soul has projected on to them; we are disillusioned when we find that they are in reality devoid of the charm which they owed, in our minds, to the association of certain ideas; sometimes we mobilise… Continue reading Marcel Proust

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