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Allen Braden

Then the bees come, more than you’d ever expect, whirring from sprig to sprig with such meticulous and random urgency you might think they understand each blossom begins to die upon its opening which has been hurried along by your own desire. — Allen Braden, from “Lilacs and Desires,” Louisiana Literature (vol. 34, no. 1,… Continue reading Allen Braden

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Robert Penn Warren

Accept these images for what they are— Out of the past a fragile element Of substance into accident. I would speak honestly and of a full heart; I would speak surely for the tale is short, And the soul’s remorseless catalogue Assumes its quick and piteous sum. — Robert Penn Warren, from “San Francisco Night… Continue reading Robert Penn Warren

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Robert Penn Warren

Waters, hypnotic, long after moonset, murmur Under your window, and Time Is only a shade on the underside of the beech-leaf Which, upward, reflects a tiny refulgence of stars. What can you dream to make Time real again? I have read in a book that dream is the mother of memory, And if there’s no… Continue reading Robert Penn Warren

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Jack B. Bedell

Tonight I watch her hands weave a winding net over us. They float above the lines of stomach tying each knot and squaring it off until the room is filled with twine. —Jack B. Bedell, from “Sleeping with the Net-Maker,” Bone-Hollow, True: New & Selected Poems (Texas Review Press, 2013)

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Frank Stanford

My sadness waves back like the heads of grain in another’s fields, it cannot be combined, and no one is hungry. — Frank Stanford, from “Frank Stanford Calls Back to the Owl Who Lives a Hundred Years,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)

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William Faulkner

…I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire…I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even… Continue reading William Faulkner

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