American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Henri Cole,

Sometimes, I feel like a large, open eye, in which there is a sifting of too many things: a summer fever, brushstrokes of green larches, yellow ray flowers, Japanese beetles copulating everywhere, war, and a cut-glass tumbler of gin— all these scraps, like some eternal revenue of memory and feeling blown together. — Henri Cole,… Continue reading Henri Cole,

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