American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Objectivist Poet · Poetry · Second-generation Modernism

George Oppen

Leviathan Truth also is the pursuit of it: Like happiness, and it will not stand. Even the verse begins to eat away In the acid. Pursuit, pursuit; A wind moves a little, Moving in a circle, very cold. How shall we say? In ordinary discourse— We must talk now. I am no longer sure of… Continue reading George Oppen

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American Culture · American Literature · Americana · Cataloguing · Classic · Collection · Colloquial Speech · Free Association · Free Verse · Interior Monologue · Lists · Poetry · Romanticism · Stream of Consciousness · Transcendentalism

Walt Whitman

When I heard the learn’d astronomer; When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me; When I was shown the charts and the diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them; When I, sitting, heard the astronomer, where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room, How soon, unaccountable, I became tired and sick;… Continue reading Walt Whitman

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American Literature · British Culture · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Imagism · Modernism · Passage · Poetry

T.S. Eliot

You gave me hyacinths first a year ago; They called me the hyacinth girl.’ —Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden, Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither Living nor dead, and I knew nothing, Looking into the heart of light,… Continue reading T.S. Eliot

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Rebecca Seiferle

So I did not think of you so much as I felt you drifting through my being, in some gesture that held me poised like a hummingbird above the scarlet blossoms of the trumpet vine, I kissed you above the heart, and by above I mean there, not that geometric center, the breastbone that so… Continue reading Rebecca Seiferle

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Fragment · Passage · Poetry

Theodore Roethke

Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire; What burns me now? Desire, desire, desire. I bleed my bones, their marrow to bestow Upon that God who knows what I would know. —Theodore Roethke, from “The Marrow,” The Far Field. (Bantam Dell Pub Group; 1st US – 1st Printing edition, September 1, 1998) Originally… Continue reading Theodore Roethke

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry · Southern Literature

Alison Pelegrin

Hot Sauce Shrine I used to be a high priestess of tail-feather feel-good mumbo jumbo, naysayer extraordinaire cobbling together some crazy quilt catechism to cling to as I tangled in the world’s thorns, frantic, fearing the chill soon to come. I haven’t turned holy roller or handler of snakes, but things changed slowly, or all… Continue reading Alison Pelegrin

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