Eavan Boland
Awake late at night what I see is
faces, faces, their radiance. And realize
I will never see them again. Then

I come to this place, to this garden:
A stretch of grass, fog-wet at dawn
reaching past hutch wire, sweet pea,

the chiming of small apples falling, still
falling by which time it will be twilight.
At the end of the path is a gate

creaking open on flickering
teatime windows and the Wicklow hills,
and beyond their blueness the horizon

of a new nation: and here at least,
those mean consonants, those actors of injury—
Moneta, Mnemosyne—are nowhere to be seen.

Where I stand there is no then or once.
It is September. Crab apples are littered
in the grass, their skin torn by wild beaks.

It is September. In another hour, I will be born.
Until then I cannot be alive.
Until then I have no need to remember.
from the book THE HISTORIANS / W. W. Norton & Company
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Composite photograph of Natalie Diaz, Bhanu Kapil and Will Harris, three of the contenders for the T. S. Eliot Prize in poetry
T. S. Eliot Prize Shortlist Announced

"The prestigious TS Eliot prize has revealed a shortlist that shows that poetry is 'the most resilient, potent, capacious and universal art we have.' Announcing the 10 titles in the running for the £25,000 award for the year’s best collection, the most valuable prize in British poetry, the poet and chair of judges, Lavinia Greenlaw, said the jury had been 'unsettled, captivated and compelled' by the books they chose."

viaTHE GUARDIAN
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Cover of Aaron McCollough's book, Underlight
What Sparks Poetry:
Aaron McCollough on "Closed on Three Sides, Open on One"

“Is there an objective world? One of the older, modern philosophical questions. Yes, well….yes and no, is my answer to that question and my poetry’s answer. Whatever objective world there may be, I have only limited access to it as it does to me. What is most real abides not in an independent, verifiable place outside myself nor somewhere hidden deep inside me; rather, what is most real grows in the meeting place."
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