Alone with our madness and favorite flower We see that there really is nothing left to write about. Or rather, it is necessary to write about the same old things In the same way, repeating the same things over and… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
“Yes, they are alive and can have those colors, But I, in my soul, am alive too. I feel I must sing and dance,… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
How many people came and stayed a certain time, Uttered light or dark speech that became part of you Like light behind windblown fog… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
Some certified nut Will try to tell you it's poetry, (It's extraordinary, it makes a great deal of sense) But watch out or he'll… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
The ellipse is as aimless as that, Stretching invisibly into the future so as to reappear In our present. Its flexing is its account,… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
Somewhere someone is traveling furiously toward you, At incredible speed, traveling day and night… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
“The genius of Cornell is that he sees and enables us to see with the eyes of childhood, before our vision got clouded by… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
The mind Is so hospitable, taking in everything Like boarders, and you don't see until It's all over how little there was to learn… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
In the increasingly convincing darkness The words become palpable, like a fruit That is too beautiful to eat. — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
What I like about music is its ability to be convincing, to carry an argument through successfully to the finish, though the terms of… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
“The Unknown Travelers Lugged to the gray arbor, I have climbed this snow-stone on my face, My stick, but what, snapped the avalanche The… — John Ashbery Copy Share Image
