I stroll from street to street,
the trees spill themselves on the asphalt road.
Sooner or later the leaves
will end up swept away from the sidewalk.
Let’s call their disappearance wind.
Let’s go on giving names to all
we’ve lost in the name of words.
—Rosa Alice Branco, from Cattle of the Lord (translated by Alexis Levitin)
“The true poet gives up the self. The I of my poem is not me. It is the first person impersonal, it is permission for you to enter the experience which we name Poem.”
—Sam Hamill, “The Necessity to Speak”