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John Ashbery

And Ut Pictura Poesis Is Her Name You can’t say it that way any more. Bothered about beauty you have to Come out into the open, into a clearing, And rest. Certainly whatever funny happens to you Is OK. To demand more than this would be strange Of you, you who have so many lovers,… Continue reading John Ashbery

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Postmodernism · The New York School

John Ashbery

[S]o when it comes Time to depart our good-byes will read automatically true or false According to what has gone before. And that loneliness will accompany us On the far side of parting, when what we dream, we read. —John Ashbery, from “Wet Are the Boards,” April Galleons: Poems (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1999)

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Postmodernism · The New York School

John Ashbery

Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night, Through blizzards and desert heat, across torrents, through narrow passes. But will he know where to find you, Recognize you when he sees you, Give you the thing he has for you? — John Ashbery, from “At North Farm,“ A Wave… Continue reading John Ashbery

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Poetry · Postmodernism · The New York School

John Ashbery

Late Echo Alone with our madness and favorite flower We see that there really is nothing left to write about. Or rather, it is necessary to write about the same old things In the same way, repeating the same things over and over For love to continue and be gradually different. Beehives and ants have… Continue reading John Ashbery

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Postmodernism · Storytelling · The New York School

John Ashbery

What can I tell you? Everything’s been locked up for the night, I couldn’t get it for you if I wanted to. But there must be some way— it’s drizzling, the lamps along the path are weeping, wanting to show you this tremendous thing, boxed in forever, always getting closer. —John Ashbery, from “Honored Guest,”… Continue reading John Ashbery

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Abstract · American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry · Postmodernism · Surrealism · The New York School

John Ashbery

Alone with our madness and favorite flower We see that there really is nothing left to write about. Or rather, it is necessary to write about the same old things In the same way, repeating the same things over and over For love to continue and be gradually different. — John Ashbery, from “Late Echo,” … Continue reading John Ashbery

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