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from “Cattle of The Lord,” by Rosa Alice Branco

from “Cattle of The Lord,” by Rosa Alice Branco

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)

from <i>A Poet’s Work,</i> by Sam Hamill

from A Poet’s Work, by Sam Hamill

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”