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I was saddened to hear that Philip Levine died this past week. I read his poems in English class in high school, and then again in a poetry class I took in college, and yet again when I was studying poetry in graduate school. In every instance, I enjoyed reading his work. He often wrote about the grit of American working class life, and made it beautiful.

If you're interested, here's an interview he gave in The Atlantic some years back. And here are a few more of his poems.