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Charles Bukowski

in the cupboard sits my bottle like a dwarf waiting to scratch out my prayers. I drink and cough like some idiot at a symphony, sunlight and maddened birds are everywhere, the phone rings gamboling its sound against the odds of the crooked sea; I drink deeply and evenly now, I drink to paradise and… Continue reading Charles Bukowski

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

Brigit Pegeen Kelly

I have seen the heart Move like a doe through the woods, move Like a stunned doe, deeper and deeper, Through trees that turn and close behind her, The way water closes over a dropped stone, Or a torn limb, or a lasting wound … — Brigit Pegeen Kelly, from “Botticelli’s St. Sebastian,” Song. .… Continue reading Brigit Pegeen Kelly

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

Hayden Carruth

Murmuring of the brook in late summer darkness, after moonset, as I lay sleepless on the porch cot. A music extraordinarily variable. Each passage of water against its stone sounding a different pitch and rhythm. It was an uncivilized music in the foothills of the mountains, continuing long beyond the endurance of a human singer,… Continue reading Hayden Carruth

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