A Brief History of Preservation
Corrie Williamson
I lie on the deck on my back, listening to the cragged,
woody bristle of a borer bee chewing the whole thing

out from under me, thinking of my friend Robert
visiting his childhood home in the mid-western

hardwood forests, how, as he tramped among the groves
and gullies, one old oak told him it was the same, and not,

yet he was moved to love the way the place had grown
up around his memory of it and was new. To protect

happens first and mostly in the heart, though precious
little separates it from possession. What effort

to keep from carving your initials there, like a spoiled lover.
What toil to prevent some other from doing the same.

Some tasks are small and easy graces—the way the lupine
cups the rain in its sleeves all day, the way my sister taught

my grandmother, before her mind went, two new ways
of expressing herself: Fuck, and I love you. Some tasks

you do with fear and tenderness together: axing
the cloud-bitten ice of the trough again and again because

the farm animals must drink, killing a crow to hang
on a fencepost for the sake of the fruit, or carrying

the bright-bodied wasps out of the house in the morning
hours when they are still too cold to sting.
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The crow-killing in this poem was something I recall my father doing once or twice when I was young, to preserve the garden and berry orchards, before he started letting the birds take what they wanted. This poem is interested in those possibilities—when we center the self and its protection, when we claim possession, or don’t, when we cause harm, and when we choose something else.

Corrie Williamson on "A Brief History of Preservation"
Emily Van Kley's Cover for The Cold and The Rust
Celebrate National Poetry Month with Our Readers

"When I teach writing about place, I try to tell my students that even their innocuous hometowns can be places of beauty and depth. I try to tell them that training your eye for detail will help you render the intricacies of a subject, that you’ll begin to recognize something has depths you had never considered. When I show my students 'Vital Signs'—a poem that brings me back to the harsh winters of my hometown in Northern Michigan—I tell them, 'Anything can hold a large amount of contradictions, even a small town, even a small poem.'"

Brian Czyzyk
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An image of the four folios.
"All Four Shakespeare Folios to Auction"

"The set, which will be offered in London on May 23 with an estimate of £3.5 – £4.5 million, was brought together in 2016, but the First, Third, and Fourth Folios have been together since around 1800 when they were purchased separately by Sir George Augustus William Shuckburgh-Evelyn. He was a bibliophilic polymath whose scientific endeavors included pioneering the barometric measurements of altitude and inventing a new way of calculating the standard length of a yard."

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