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Jorie Graham
know myself I
say to my
self so I
cannot be

led astray. Led
astray I say I
know myself more
fully now so I

cannot be made
to do some-
thing I as
an other

wld never
do. But I
did it. Didn't I
do it. It wasn't

me to do such
a thing or believe
such a thing I
tell myself as I

look carefully into
the only mirror I
am given—my
self in there—me

looking carefully &
hard. I am honest in
my looking I
think as I see

someone else in there

opening, will in their
eyes wild like a sail
in the wind, wind
rising now as I

look in, be-
wildered. The old
gentleness where is
it. I put my hand

to my face but it
touches glass. Where
is my body to
guide me I

think. I tap at
the prisoner in
there, is that the
schoolroom, the

blank in the lesson,
is that my soul
gradually by its ten
thousand adjustments

to its own in-
creasing absence opening
too far. Is it blind. I
tap my face which is

gone on the glass which is
not gone. Don't stop
I hear my mind hiss,
don't stop for

anything.
from the book TO 2040 / Copper Canyon Press
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Black-and-white headshot of Oliver de la Paz
Oliver de la Paz on The Diaspora Sonnets

"The sonnet carries an idea of perfection for me. There are aspects of it that remind me of the sharp facets of a diamond, cut precisely at the right angle to gleam in a particular way. I also love that the sonnet can be both an argument and an oath of one’s enduring love."

via LITHUB
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Cover image of Sara Nicholson's book, April
What Sparks Poetry:
Michael Joseph Walsh on Sara Nicholson's April


"Maybe what Nature and Art have in common is their amenability to being read—the fact that both can be the object of lectio divina, the contemplation of the 'living word.' In April the gods have left us, but Nature, like poetry, is being written, and can be read. The world is a poem, or a painting, and a poem, in turn, is the world, or at least a world (an 'imaginary garden with real toads in [it],' if you will)."
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