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

Mark Strand

In another time, What cannot be seen will define us, and we shall be prompted To say that language is error, and all things are wronged By representation. The self, we shall say, can never be Seen with a disguise, and never be seen without one. — Mark Strand, from “A Suite of Appearances, IV,”… Continue reading Mark Strand

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Abstract · American Literature · Avant-garde · Blues Form · Classic · Collection · Erotica · Excerpt · Imagism · Linguistics · Modernism · Passage · Poetry · Romanticism · Sensual · Surrealism

E. E. Cummings

ix nearer: breath of my breath: take not thy tingling limbs from me: make my pain their crazy meal letting thy tigers of smooth sweetness steal slowly in dumb blossoms of new mingling: deeper: blood of my blood: with upwardcringing swiftness plunge these leopards of white dream in the glad flesh of my fear: more… Continue reading E. E. Cummings

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Contemporary · Excerpt · Poetry

Chase Twichell

A word can rub itself rosy against its cage of context, starting a small fire in the sentence and trapping for a moment the twin scents of now and goodbye. The sexual mimicry always surprises me: the long dive the talky mind makes into the pleasures of its native dark. — Chase Twichell, from “Word… Continue reading Chase Twichell

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American Culture · American Literature · Anthology · Classic · Collection · Compilation · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Reference

Nancy Eimers

Sometimes I come here just to be a lost mariner but I am never lost: there are the snowflakes frozen to the porthole of a jewelry store, here is the treasure chest open to a single pearl laid on a velvet slab, there is the plashing of faces in the aisles and the row of… Continue reading Nancy Eimers

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

Tess Gallagher

Dove left open by love in a meadow, Dove commanding me not to know where it sank into the almost-night—for you I will learn to play the concertina, to write poems full of hateful jasmine and longing, to keep the dead alive, to sicken at the least separation. Dove, for whose sake I will never… Continue reading Tess Gallagher

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American Counterculture · Classic · Collection · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · The Beat Generation · The San Francisco Renaissance

Jack Spicer

Like silent little children we embrace, Aching together. And love is emptiness of ear. As cure We put a face against our ear And listen to it as we would a shell, Soothed by its roar. We find the body difficult, and speak Across its wall like strangers. — Jack Spicer, from “We find the… Continue reading Jack Spicer

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