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We're moving and, being part of the writing community, I have acquired a ton of literary journals during my time here. I don't really know what to do with them now. My university dep't doesn't want them. I doubt the library would want them and I don't want them to go to complete waste. If you think you might want one, maybe I could give you a list of journals, and you can send a mailer with correct postage, and then I could send you an issue of the journal of your choice? I'm not sure what the $ amount would be; it's the size and weight of one paperback book, but keep in mind that the paper is thick. I don't want to type up every issue of every journal I have, but maybe if you think you'd like, say, Agni, I could send you one of the many copies of that journal I've accumulated. Unless you have a better idea for what to do with a mound of lit journals.
Here's a poem:
IN A COUNTRY
My love and I are inventing a country, which we
can already see taking shape, as if wheels were
passing through yellow mud. But there is a prob-
lem: if we put a river in the country, it will thaw
and begin flooding. If we put the river on the bor-
der, there will be trouble. If we forget about the
river, there will be no way out. There is already a
sky over that country, waiting for clouds or smoke.
Birds have flown into it, too. Each evening more
trees fill with their eyes, and what they see we can
never erase.
One day it was snowing heavily, and again we were
lying in bed, watching our country: we could
make out the wide river for the first time, blue and
moving. We seemed to be getting closer; we saw
our wheel tracks leading into it and curving out
of sight behind us. It looked like the land we had
left, some smoke in the distance, but I wasn't sure.
There were birds calling. The creaking of our
wheels. And as we entered that country, it felt as if
someone was touching our bare shoulders, lightly,
for the last time.
--Larry Levis
Here's a poem:
IN A COUNTRY
My love and I are inventing a country, which we
can already see taking shape, as if wheels were
passing through yellow mud. But there is a prob-
lem: if we put a river in the country, it will thaw
and begin flooding. If we put the river on the bor-
der, there will be trouble. If we forget about the
river, there will be no way out. There is already a
sky over that country, waiting for clouds or smoke.
Birds have flown into it, too. Each evening more
trees fill with their eyes, and what they see we can
never erase.
One day it was snowing heavily, and again we were
lying in bed, watching our country: we could
make out the wide river for the first time, blue and
moving. We seemed to be getting closer; we saw
our wheel tracks leading into it and curving out
of sight behind us. It looked like the land we had
left, some smoke in the distance, but I wasn't sure.
There were birds calling. The creaking of our
wheels. And as we entered that country, it felt as if
someone was touching our bare shoulders, lightly,
for the last time.
--Larry Levis
no subject
Date: 2009-05-29 06:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-29 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-29 07:27 am (UTC)I'm essentially a literary/arts journal nut. A couple friends and I are starting our own zine anyway, so...generally I like looking at other journals. It was a habit I picked up doing literary/arts magazine staff back in High School- I thought it was important to look at other journals and previous issues from years past...my college colleagues progressively thought it less important.
I am curious what all you have.
I am especially enamored lately with NOON.
no subject
Date: 2009-05-29 07:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-31 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-29 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-30 12:09 am (UTC)Also, lovely poem. That's a new poet for me. :)
no subject
Date: 2009-05-30 12:22 am (UTC)Maybe you could take them out in a city and leave them random places, like the pass-along-a-book things!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-04 02:37 pm (UTC)