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I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond all this fiddle.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one discovers in
it, after all, a place for the genuine.
Hands that can grasp, eyes
that can dilate, hair that can rise
if it must...
from Poetry
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Marianne Moore was born in Kirkwood, Missouri, on November 1, 1887, and spent
much of her youth in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. After graduation from Bryn Mawr
College in 1909 she taught for four years at the Carlisle Indian School. Her
poetry first appeared professionally in The Egoist and Poetry magazines in
1915 and she moved to New York City in 1918. Her first book, Poems, was issued
in England by the Egoist Press in 1921. Observations, published three years
later in America, received the Dial Award. From 1925 to 1929 she served as acting
editor of The Dial, the preeminent American literary periodical. She moved to
Brooklyn in 1929, where she lived for the next thirty-six years. In 1935
Selected Poems, with an Introduction by T.S. Eliot, brought her work to
the attention of a wider public. Three additional books of poetry were followed, in 1951,
by her Collected Poems, which won the Bollingen Prize, the National Book Award,
and the Pulitzer Prize.
Among the many awards Marianne Moore received are the National Institute of Arts
and Letters Gold Medal for poetry, the Poetry Scoiety of America's Gold Medal for
Distinguished Achievement, and the National Medal for Literature, America's highest
literary honor. A member of the National Institute of Arts and Letters since 1947,
she was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters in 1955. In 1967 she was
made Chevalier de l'Ordre des Arts et des Lettres by the French Republic, and in 1969
she received an honorary doctorate in literature from Harvard University, her sixteenth
honorary degree. Marianne Moore died in New York City, in her eighty-fifth year, on
February 5, 1972.
"Part of the body of durable poetry written in our timein which an original sensibility and an alert intelligence and deep feeling have been engaged in maintaining the life of the English language." T.S. Eliot
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Some things we do take up a lot more time
And are considered a fruitful, natural thing to do.
I am coming out of one way to behave
Into a plowed cornfield. On my left, gulls,
On an inland vacation. They seem to mind the way I write.
from Ode to Bill
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John Ashbery is the author of fourteen books of poetry,
including April Galleons (1987), and Flow Chart (1991), and a
volume of art criticism, Reported Sightings (1989). His
Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror received the Pulitzer Prize for
Poetry, the National Book Critics Circle Award, and the National
Book Award. He has been named a Guggenheim Fellow and a
MacArthur Fellow, and is a chancellor of the Academy of American
Poets. In 1989-90 he was Charles Eliot Norton Professor of Poetry
at Harvard. He is currently Charles P. Stevenson, Jr., Professor
of Literature at Bard College.
"No one now writing poetry in the English language is likelier than Ashbery to survive the severe judgements of time.... He is joining that American sequence that includes Whitman, Dickinson, Stevens, and Hart Crane." Harold Bloom
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Imagine it, words: not to be asked anymore
To glorify causes you consider shameful
But to praise the beauty that's been neglected,
To draw a map showing it's not remote
But near to anyone willing to do some walking.
from Manifesto
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Carl Dennis is the author of nine books of poetry,
including, Practical Gods, which in 2002 was
awarded the Pulitzer Prize in poetry. In 2000 he received the
Ruth Lilly Prize from Poetry Magazine and the Modern
Association for his contribution to American poetry. He lives in
Buffalo, where he is Artist in Residence at the State University
of New York, and is a sometime member of the faculty of the
MFA Program in creative writing at Warren Wilson College.
"His acute observations about the private and public realms reach beyond mere statement to subtle levels of informed art." Joseph Parisi
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Up came the brisket
and boiled trout,
although, at last,
Keats favored the gleam that enclosed them,
the silver cloches and water flask,
the glint of the rope-cupped silver tray
bright, steadfast stareclipsing
the window's aperture.
from Sans Merci
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Linda Bierds is the author of seven volumes of poetry, most recently
The Seconds. Among her many awards are the PEN West Poetry Prize and
two National Endowment for the Arts grants, as well as fellowships from the Ingram
Merrill, John Simon Guggenheim, Wolfers-O'Neill and John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur foundations.
Her work has appeared widely, including in The Atlantic Monthly, Field,
The New Yorker, and Parnassus. She is on the faculty of the University of Washington and lives on Bainbridge Island, Washington.
"The autobiography of her imagination would be only half as intense were the writing itself less beautiful and clear, less perfect to pitch." Stanley Plumly
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