Fall 1979 • Vol. I No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1979 |

Self

You cannot measure the circumference but there are centerpoints: stones, and a woman washing at a ford, the water runs red-brown from what she washes. The mouths of caves. The mouths of bells. The sky in winter under snowclouds to northward, green of jade. No star is farther from it than the glint of mica in a pebble in the hand, or nearer. Distance is my god.

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Ursula K. Le Guin (1929-2018) was the author of numerous novels, volumes of short stories, collections of essays, books for children, volumes of poetry and translation, and received many honors and awards including Hugo, Nebula, National Book Award, PEN-Malamud.

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By Ursula K. Le Guin

You cannot measure the circumference but there are centerpoints: stones, and a woman washing at a ford, the water runs red-brown from what she washes. The mouths of caves. The […]

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