A.R. Ammons

1. Why do I write, and why do I read? I've been thinking about that a lot lately. 2. Wonderment, I tell myself earlier this year, in my journal. Every time I arrive at a page, I bring with me questions. Every

Watching the news, my heart heavy. I just don't know what to make of the world anymore, sometimes. Of our lives, and the things we lose. In View of the Fact A.R. Ammons The people of my time are passing away:

Bad day. Can I just jump into bed and hide under the covers? Shit List; Or, Omnium-gatherum Of Diversity Into Unity A.R. Ammons You'll rejoice at how many kinds of shit there are: gosling shit (which J. Williams said something was as green as), fish

In a Sigur Ros kind of mood. And a poem, of course. And everything is beautiful. The City Limits A.R. Ammons When you consider the radiance, that it does not withhold itself but pours its abundance without selection into every nook and cranny

Sunday. I am taking a deep breath. Their Sex Life A.R. Ammons One failure on Top of another

Am not really religious, but growing up with parents who are so, I can't escape the desire sometimes to hold on to something much bigger than myself. This is how I pray: I peel oranges, I tie my shoelaces, and

Thinking of the fire trees at the university. Remembering what it feels like walking past them, under them, while the leaves are falling. It felt like fall. Wishing we had fall. Play A.R. Ammons Nothing's going to become of anyone except death: therefore: it's okay to