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Theodore Roethke

Fourth Meditation 1 I was always one for being alone, Seeking in my own way, eternal purpose; At the edge of the field waiting for the pure moment; Standing, silent, on sandy beaches or walking along green embankments; Knowing the sinuousness of small waters: As a chip or shell, floating lazily with a slow current…… Continue reading Theodore Roethke

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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 · Poetry

Theodore Roethke

I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils, Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight, All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage, Desolation in immaculate public places, Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard, The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher, Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma, Endless duplicaton of lives and objects. And… Continue reading Theodore Roethke

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