John Ashbery, from "My Philosophy of Life" [ID'd]
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The night is cold and delicate and full of angels
John Ashbery, Rivers and Mountains; from ‘The Ecclesiast’
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Leggere è un piacere,
ma anche finire un libro -
arrivare all'ultimo spazio bianco
in fondo - è piacevole.
John Ashbery
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WE WERE ON THE TERRACE DRINKING GIN AND TONICS
When the squall hit.
JOHN ASHBERY
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Just Walking Around
by John Ashbery
What names do I have for you?
Certainly there is no name for you
In the sense that the stars have names
That somehow fit them. Just walking around,
An object of curiosity to some,
But you are too preoccupied
By the secret smudge in the back of your soul
To say much, and wander around,
Smiling to yourself and others.
It gets kind of lonely
But at the same time off-putting,
Counterproductive, as you realize once again
That the longest way is the most efficient way,
The one that looped among islands, and
You always seemed to be traveling in a circle.
And now that the end is near
The segments of the trip swing open like an orange.
There is light in there, and mystery and food.
Come see it. Come not for me but it.
But if I am still there, grant that we may see each other.
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John Ashbery, from Some Trees
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We are together at last, though far apart.
John Ashbery, Rivers and Mountains; from ‘The Ecclesiast’
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John Ashbery, July 28, 1927 – September 3, 2017.
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Non considero la poesia un'opera chiusa. Sento che continua a succedere nella mia testa e ogni tanto interrompo qualcosa.
John Ashbery
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"There is no going back, For standing still means death, and life is moving on, Moving on towards death. But sometimes standing still is also life."
John Ashbery, excerpt from "The Bungalows," from The Double Dream of Spring
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