A Poet Reflects

Remembered landscapes are left in me
The way a bee leaves its sting,
                                               hopelessly, passion-placed,
Untranslatable langauage.

—Charles Wright, from “All Landscape Is Abstract, and Tends to Repeat Itself” in Appalachia (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 1998)

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    Remembered landscapes are left in me The way a bee leaves its sting, hopelessly, passion-placed, Untranslatable...
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