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Ernest Hemingway

You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintery light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen.… Continue reading Ernest Hemingway

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E.E. Cummings

in time of all sweet things beyond whatever mind may comprehend, remember seek (forgetting find) and in a mystery to be (when time from time shall set us free) forgetting me, remember me. — E.E. Cummings, “in time of daffodils,” E. E. Cummings: Complete Poems, 1904-1962, Revised, Corrected, and Expanded Edition (Liveright, 1994) a

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Margaret Atwood

Late August Late August — This is the plum season, the nights blue and distended, the moon hazed, this is the season of peaches with their lush lobed bulbs that glow in the dusk, apples that drop and rot sweetly, their brown skins veined as glands No more the shrill voices that cried Need Need… Continue reading Margaret Atwood

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William Jay Smith

Thinking of you this evening, I think of mystery; I think of umbrellas of crystal Shading a cinnamon sea; I think of swallow-tailed shadows Enveloping history; And the past becomes the future, And the present is yet to be; And life is a rain-swept mirror Through which perpetually A girl with bright hair flowing, Dappled… Continue reading William Jay Smith

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Mary Szybist

I know that darkness. Have stood on that bridge in the space between the streetlights dizzy with looking down. Maybe some darks are deep enough to swallow what we want them to. But you can’t have two worlds in your hands and choose emptiness. — Mary Szybist, from “So-and-So Descending from the Bridge,” Incarnadine. (Graywolf… Continue reading Mary Szybist

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