Southern and Paris

Whenever I read from literary journals or writers' magazines I find myself wanting to retain specific phrases, remember certain poems or poets, and so I jot them down in the journal I keep with me.  Tonight I skimmed The Southern Review and The Paris Review and these are the fireflies I captured.  Read them, write a response from the poem or from something mentioned in the poem.  Anything can become a writing prompt.
From The Southern Review, Summer 2009, Vol. 45, No. 3.
Poetry:
Jake Adam York: "Darkly" and "Homochitto."
Both these poems echoed a tone of Southern place for me.  I tend to favor the familiar language of describing a natural landscape and how people interact in it over the social atmosphere of cities that are cluttered with noise of self-interest and name brands.  "Homochitto" references Charles Eddie Moore and Henry Hezekiah Dee of southwest Mississippi, two African American youths who were hitch-hiking were kidnapped, beaten, killed, and dumped in the Mississippi River in 1964.   Of course, overtones of history grabs my interest as well.
Joe Wilkins: "Then I Packed You Up the Ridge Like a Brother On My Back."
I don't know what to say but I liked the imagery and loved the title.  The intimate tone and admiration of a hunter and his prey was found nicely in the lines Wilkins turned on the page.
Beth Ann Fennelly: "Sleeping in the State Where You Lived for Nearly 40 Years" and "Fattening the Ghost."
The first is a father-daughter relationship from her point-of-view after his death. The second takes the idea of dying and being forgotten by the little ones in family, the memories only transcribed by voice from aunt to niece, from grandfather to grandchild, and so on.
Phrase that caught my eye:
"auburn is autumn mid-August" in the poem "What Auburn Is" by Christina Hutchins.
From The Paris Review, Fall 2009, No. #190.
Quotes from Interiors by Rainer Maria Rilke:
II. "But the best things that happen, after all, are the ones that hide their deeper reason with both hands, whether out of modesty or because they don't want to be betrayed." p. 21.
VII. "Sometimes a day is nothing at all and then right on its heels comes a night that is like... a thousand days." p. 22.
IX. "People would sooner weave their dreams deep into the linens than let them grow up next to them into a life without enough sun for them to ripen.  When you near your end, you leave your dreams behind in small and seemingly worthless, old-fashioned things, which betray no secrets before they perish in turn." p. 22.
Wiki articles about the history of The Southern Review and The Paris Review.