Everything that happens before Death is what counts. ― Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes. (Avon; Reprint edition, March 1, 1998) Originally published 1962.
I am listening to the rustle of your long black dress On the telephone last night as you pulled it up A thousand miles away. Someone could have walked in. The husky hush of your voice. Raise your evening gown for me forever. — Frederick Seidel, from “Early Sunday Morning in the Cher,” These Days… Continue reading Frederick Seidel
Having the equilibrium of a poet, I kept falling in love. — Frank Stanford, from “With the Approach of the Oak the Axeman Quakes,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)