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A Geography of Poets

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is all wrong, ed what poets now live where they say they do where they started out where they want to half the midwesterners did time in new york the other half in california only new yorkers write as if they are from new york and mostly they are not the ones in california were wounded elsewhere when they feel better or can't afford the rent they'll go back where they came from this is america you get hurt where you are born you make poetry out of it as far from home as you can get you die somewhere in between the only geography of poets is greyhound general motors rules them all ubi patria ibi bene or ibi bene ubi patria bread out of nostalgia not a lot of it either some of us came from very far maps don't help much Andrei Codrescu

“Dust of Snow”

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by Robert Frost The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued

The Ides of March…

Be fearful of exalted rank, o soul. And if you are unable to subdue your aspirations — doubtingly pursue them and with precautions. And the more you rise, the more examining, the warier be. And when you are arrived at the supreme height of your glory — a Caesar, as it were: when you are become a man so widely famed: then specially be wary — at such time as you come out into the thoroughfares, a noted ruler with great following: if peradventure, from the multitude, some friendly person, an Artemidorus, bringing a paper, should press near to you and rap out sharp “Read this without delay; herein are weighty matters touching you”, fail not to tarry; fail not to postpone all talk or business; fail not to turn off the different hangers-on who bow and scrape, (you will attend to them in time); let even the Senate wait; — leave all, and learn at once the grave things written by Artemidorus. CP Cavafy