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Kenneth Rexroth

“Whether or not, it is no question now, Of time or place, or even how, It is not time for questions now, Nor yet the place.” The soft lights of your face Arrange themselves in memories Of smiles and frowns. — Kenneth Rexroth, from “The Thin Edge of Your Pride VII,” The collected shorter poems… Continue reading Kenneth Rexroth

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Confessional · Modernism · Poetry

Sylvia Plath

Better that every fiber crack and fury make head, blood drenching vivid couch, carpet, floor and the snake-figured almanac vouching you are a million green counties from here, than to sit mute, twitching so under prickling stars, with stare, with curse blackening the time goodbyes were said, trains let go, and I, great magnanimous fool,… Continue reading Sylvia Plath

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American Counterculture · American Literature · Anthology · Black Mountain Poetry · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · The Beat Generation

Robert Creeley

Such strangeness of mind I know I cannot find there more than what I know. I am tired of purposes, intent that leads itself back to its own belief. I want nothing more of such brilliance but what makes the shadows darker and that fire grow dimmer. — Robert Creeley, from “Pieces,” The Collected Poems… Continue reading Robert Creeley

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Anthology · Asian Culture · Chán master · Chinese Culture · Classic · Compilation · Excerpt · Fragment · Inspirational · Motivational · Passage · Poetry · Reference · Spirituality · Traditionalism · Zen

Wu Men

Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter. If your mind isn’t clouded by unnecessary things, this is the best season of your life. —Wu Men, from The Enlightened Heart: An Anthology of Sacred Poetry. Translated by Stephen Mitchell (Harper and Row, 1989)

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Autobiographical · Biographical · British Culture · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Confessional · Correspondence · English Literature · Epistolary · Excerpt · Memoir · Passage · Poetry · Romanticism · Victorian

John Keats

I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days – three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.  ― John Keats, Bright Star: Love Letters and Poems of John Keats to Fanny Brawne. (Penguin Books; Mti edition, September 16, 2009)

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