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Allen Ginsberg

I feel as if I am at a dead end and so I am finished. All spiritual facts I realize are true but I never escape the feeling of being closed in and the sordidness of self, the futility of all that I have seen and done and said. Maybe if I continued things would… Continue reading Allen Ginsberg

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Odysseus Elytis

Do you know the flowing hair that wrote the wind? The glances that ran parallel with time? The silence that understood itself? — Odysseus Elytis, from “Windows Toward The Fifth Season,” trans. Kimon Friar, The Collected Poems of Odysseus Elytis (Johns Hopkins University, 1997)

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Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff

Darkness. Silence that weeps in my heart. Ashes on my hearth and the cry of a lonely bird at the window. The trees that shiver in the wind. Darkness. And youth passing by- … To listen and hear no footstep…. — Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff, from “The Book of Love,” Poetica Erotica . (New York : M.… Continue reading Blanche Shoemaker Wagstaff

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Emily Dickinson

The Brain — is wider than the Sky — For — put them side by side — The one the other will contain With ease — and You — beside — The Brain is deeper than the sea — For — hold them — Blue to Blue — The one the other will absorb —… Continue reading Emily Dickinson

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Kenneth Rexroth

Do not talk any more. Do not speak. Do not break silence until We are weary of each other. Let our fingers run like steel Carving the contours of our bodies’ gold. Do not speak. My face sinks In the clotted summer of your hair. The sound of the bees stops. Stillness falls like a… Continue reading Kenneth Rexroth

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Robert Sward

All day I have written words: My subject has been that. Words. And I am wrong. And the words.                                        I burn Three pages of them. Words. And the moon, moonlight, that too I burn. —A poem remains. But in the words, in the words In the fire that is now words. I eat the… Continue reading Robert Sward

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