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Sunday Sentence

Chicago and Lake MichiganIn which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Lake Michigan, impossibly blue, the morning light bouncing toward the city.

Source: Rebecca Makkai, The Great Believers: A Novel—at the start of a chapter unlike anything I’ve read before.

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Two hundred years ago the pregnant women
were wheeled to the Louvre to gaze
at portraits of beautiful nobles,
thinking the lovely features
would travel through their sight
to form their babies’ faces.

Source: Colleen Abel, “The Expectant” (Remake: Poems)

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Sunday Sentence

sunlight shining through tree branches laden with snowIn which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Snow rested thickly on each tree branch.

Source: Mary Gaitskill, “Acceptance Journey” (The New Yorker)

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Your writer will thank you when she finally sends in that law school application and isn’t reminded by her cup every morning that she didn’t write like a motherfucker, never really cared about the Oxford comma, and never killed anyone off in a book because she didn’t write that kind of book, though if she had it would have had a much better chance of selling than the quiet domestic fiction she actually did write.

Source: R.L. Maizes, “10 Perfect Writer Gifts We Just Made Up” (Electric Literature)

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Let my cancer be the slow-growing kind
so I will have all the time I need

to backstroke over the rocks and little fishes,
looking upwards through my bronze-tinted goggles
into the vaults and rafters of the oaks,
as the crows exchange their morning gossip

in the pale mutations of early light.

Source: Tony Hoagland (1953-2018), “Barton Springs” (published in Poetry [July/August 2007] and re-published in the inside cover of the Poetry‘s December 2018 issue).

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Sunday Sentence

In which I participate in David Abrams’s “Sunday Sentence” project, sharing the best sentence I’ve read during the past week, “out of context and without commentary.”

Wherever you look, the portents
bear the same burden: the lawns
will mold under the deep drifts,
the greens will thirst to death
in their dry dirt—are brown
already with a chill foresight;
look at the puffy, bundled spruce.

Source: “Endsong” by Robley Wilson (1930-2018), published on the inside cover of the November 2018 issue of Poetry magazine; previously published in the magazine in October 1981.

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