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Stanley Kunitz

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BOOKS
June 20, 1999
I've tried to seal it in, that cross-grained knot on the opposite wall, scored in the lintel of my door. but it keeps bleeding through into the world we share. Mornings when I wake, curled in my web, I hear it come with a rush of resin out of the trauma of its lopping-off. Obstinate bud, sticky with life, mad for the rain again, it racks itself with shoots that crackle overhead, dividing as they grow. Let be! Let be! I shake my wings and fly into its boughs.
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CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
May 16, 2006 | Elaine Woo, Times Staff Writer
Stanley Kunitz, the elegant centenarian of American poetry, whose musings about life, death, love and memory brought him a Pulitzer Prize, a National Book Award and two terms as U.S. poet laureate, died of natural causes Sunday at his home in New York City. He was 100. Kunitz, whose death was announced Monday by his publisher, W.W. Norton, had been in failing health for some time.
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BOOKS
September 24, 2000 | ADAM KIRSCH, Adam Kirsch is a poet and critic who has contributed to numerous publications, including The New York Times and The New Republic
In his novel "The Middle of the Journey," Lionel Trilling remarked that, in the modern world, "a full decade" was "a whole cultural generation." Nowhere is that disorienting pace more evident than in the American poetry of the century just ending. For the last 100 years, the art has been madly protean; no sooner could any poet, critic or reader pin it down than it changed shape and darted off, to be briefly caught by some new vanguard.
BOOKS
September 24, 2000 | ADAM KIRSCH, Adam Kirsch is a poet and critic who has contributed to numerous publications, including The New York Times and The New Republic
In his novel "The Middle of the Journey," Lionel Trilling remarked that, in the modern world, "a full decade" was "a whole cultural generation." Nowhere is that disorienting pace more evident than in the American poetry of the century just ending. For the last 100 years, the art has been madly protean; no sooner could any poet, critic or reader pin it down than it changed shape and darted off, to be briefly caught by some new vanguard.
BOOKS
November 12, 1995
The season stalls, unseasonably fair, blue-fair, serene, a stack of golden discs, each disc a day, and the addition slow. I wish you were here with me to walk the flats, toward dusk especially when the tide is out and the bay turns opal, filled with rolling fire that washes on the moldering wreck offshore, our mussel-vineyard, strung with bearded grapes.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
May 16, 2006 | Elaine Woo, Times Staff Writer
Stanley Kunitz, the elegant centenarian of American poetry, whose musings about life, death, love and memory brought him a Pulitzer Prize, a National Book Award and two terms as U.S. poet laureate, died of natural causes Sunday at his home in New York City. He was 100. Kunitz, whose death was announced Monday by his publisher, W.W. Norton, had been in failing health for some time.
BOOKS
September 24, 2000
Orioles live in the elms, and in classical verse the length of the vowels alone determines the measure. Once and once only a year nature knows quantity stretched to the limit, as in Homer's meter. O this is a day that yawns like a caesura: serene from the start, almost painfully slowed. Oxen browse in the field, and a golden languor keeps me from drawing a rich, whole note from my reed. TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY STANLEY KUNITZ From "Passing Through" by Stanley Kunitz (W.W. Norton: 176 pp.
NEWS
November 26, 1987
Elizabeth Kray, 71, executive director of the Academy of American Poets from 1963 to 1981 who originated the Poets-in-the-Schools program in the public schools of New York, Detroit and Pittsburgh. She also was co-founder, with poet Stanley Kunitz, of Poets House in New York City, a meeting place for poets to which she donated her extensive library which included rare editions. In New York on Saturday of cancer.
NEWS
August 1, 2000 | Associated Press
Stanley Kunitz, 95, will become the 10th poet laureate of the United States in the fall, the Library of Congress announced Monday. He published his first book of poetry in 1930 and has since produced nine more. Said one of Kunitz's verses in 1958, the year he won the Pulitzer Prize: I recognize the gods' capricious hand, And write this poem for money, rage and love. Kunitz, a former reporter and college professor, will succeed Robert Pinsky, who has held the post for three years.
BOOKS
August 17, 1997
We know what trembles on the scales, and what we must steel ourselves to face. The bravest hour strikes on our clocks: may courage not abandon us! Let bullets kill us--we are not afraid, nor are we bitter, though our housetops fall. We will preserve you, Russian speech, from servitude in foreign chains, keep you alive, great Russian word, fit for the songs of our children's children, pure on their tongues, and free.
BOOKS
September 24, 2000
Orioles live in the elms, and in classical verse the length of the vowels alone determines the measure. Once and once only a year nature knows quantity stretched to the limit, as in Homer's meter. O this is a day that yawns like a caesura: serene from the start, almost painfully slowed. Oxen browse in the field, and a golden languor keeps me from drawing a rich, whole note from my reed. TRANSLATED FROM THE RUSSIAN BY STANLEY KUNITZ From "Passing Through" by Stanley Kunitz (W.W. Norton: 176 pp.
NEWS
August 1, 2000 | Associated Press
Stanley Kunitz, 95, will become the 10th poet laureate of the United States in the fall, the Library of Congress announced Monday. He published his first book of poetry in 1930 and has since produced nine more. Said one of Kunitz's verses in 1958, the year he won the Pulitzer Prize: I recognize the gods' capricious hand, And write this poem for money, rage and love. Kunitz, a former reporter and college professor, will succeed Robert Pinsky, who has held the post for three years.
BOOKS
June 20, 1999
I've tried to seal it in, that cross-grained knot on the opposite wall, scored in the lintel of my door. but it keeps bleeding through into the world we share. Mornings when I wake, curled in my web, I hear it come with a rush of resin out of the trauma of its lopping-off. Obstinate bud, sticky with life, mad for the rain again, it racks itself with shoots that crackle overhead, dividing as they grow. Let be! Let be! I shake my wings and fly into its boughs.
BOOKS
November 12, 1995
The season stalls, unseasonably fair, blue-fair, serene, a stack of golden discs, each disc a day, and the addition slow. I wish you were here with me to walk the flats, toward dusk especially when the tide is out and the bay turns opal, filled with rolling fire that washes on the moldering wreck offshore, our mussel-vineyard, strung with bearded grapes.
NEWS
November 26, 1987
Elizabeth Kray, 71, executive director of the Academy of American Poets from 1963 to 1981 who originated the Poets-in-the-Schools program in the public schools of New York, Detroit and Pittsburgh. She also was co-founder, with poet Stanley Kunitz, of Poets House in New York City, a meeting place for poets to which she donated her extensive library which included rare editions. In New York on Saturday of cancer.
BOOKS
August 9, 1998
I am Goya of the bare field, by the enemy's beak gouged till the craters of my eyes gape I am grief I am the tongue of war, the embers of cities on the snows of the year 1941 I am hunger I am the gullet of a woman hanged whose body like a bell tolled over a blank square I am Goya O grapes of wrath! I have hurled westward the ashes of the uninvited guest!
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