Dean Young

Dean Young

Twice First Light   New Born Horse In winter before light it's impossible to guess what I'll knock into next. A lamp in the shape of a ship goes down, its lightbulb in a short white passion. I love the frail tintinnabulations of a broken bulb so appropriate for...

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Tony Hoagland

Tony Hoagland

In Gratitude for Talk for John and Joe The blue-grey steeples of the pines, the lake's cold oval: our perception of these shapes makes us particularly human. Like tourists living on the shore of what really matters, we can lean back and say "Those clouds are marble...

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Rita Dove

Rita Dove

Here’s a poem by Rita Dove called “Watching Last Year at Marienbad at Roger Haggerty’s House in Auburn, Alabama.” It begins “There is a corridor of light/through the pines, lint from the Spanish Moss./ 
There is the fallen sun… 

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William Matthews

Make It New   There it stands, unmade, like a bed or an apology, or a long unspoken sentence   with an apple in its throat. What could be simpler? Grammar urges each sentence   to its close so that grammar may close its files, though each sentence holds open   its...

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