O, what a face full of things:
With cigarette in mouth and with fear        Sometimes 
transparent tongues of heat
at my thighs— 

Such longings: Errant. Verdant.
Yes, when the signs of summer thicken, 
like bees, and I 
lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch.

Thus I: faltering forward,
endlessly. Your voice on the telephone. 
I mean the bees in my body are restless again
and set out to find you.  

(lines from A.D. Hope, Roberto Bolaño, S. Ben Tov, Seamus Heaney, C.D. Wright, Rudyard Kipling, May Swenson, Albert Goldbarth, Thomas Hardy, Margaret Holly, Paisley Rekdal, Yehuda Amichai)

– Leah Schwartz