poets
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“Sul Llobregat” by Eugenio Montale
Dal verde immarcescibile della canfora due note, un intervallo di terza maggiore. Il cucco, non la civetta, ti dissi; ma intanto, di scatto, tu avevi spinto l’acceleratore. from Collected Poems 1920-1954
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wikipedia poem, no. 14
“…of their surroundings’n their phones and tablets until their phones and pointed it acrossed texting and nodody sees this. Thefakeeson of their phones. “These weren’t concealed movements—the gun is very clear,” said the District Attorney in an apparently random encounter. “very clear,” said the District Attorney. “These weren’t concealed movements—the dozens of their phones.”
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morning, 040820130548
Total darkness, like youthis a beast to be eliminated.Dread beauty crawling eastacross county lines, redripped hands and ragged knees. A thought here, dilated in the past:Her fading eyes swipe at the horizon Like the loose threat of a rising sun.
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One Long Fucking Question for Michael Robbins
What I’ve learned about long walks of course Was taught by the whiskers of a reservation man Lashing a horse Sterile tracts of pale kentucky blue grey shale Don’t take them Or take them seldom by mail Stretching out like a dying dog between The pickets and Queen Anne For a loss They can’t Be…
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American Womanhood
i see her sipping tea she wants to write the Great American Joke Book about consumerism sour-milk yellow sniffling yolk but they get in the way the hardcover wesleyan in a cable-knit sweater the canadian monthly masked in a methylin-soaked love letter hands up baby hands up “But if I said it was the only…
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“Proof that cinema is 50 years behind all other arts,” [draft]
The brain function! each line flirting dangerously close to each above suburban new jersey tan sandy sandals skin cement The patterns repeating! another handsome man illuminates his jaw foreground becomes background the first assistant cameraman earns his sleep and Fellini’s big toe is bleeding again On the third re-write: “Terrible! …
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good verbs that aren’t
I can read & read & read but mostly fingers slick with natural oils or grease, one could say (as if sneaking across the DMZ and speaking of the enemy) nothing comes. The tip snaps off under some enormous privilege singular, impregnable & now I’m stealing words slick from Philip Levine’s poem about pubic hair…