dragline & loess, what phosphor -us is a semaphore for, silklike in its acoustic shadows louver away, or stay when I move: figures astray from the mercury — Andrew Zawacki, from “[Grayscale breath on a fluid…],” Video Tape. (Counterpath Press March 8, 2013)
I became the very air; I was full of stars. I was the soaring spaces between the spires of the cathedral, the solemn breath of chimneys, a whispered prayer upon the winter wind. I was silence,and I was music, one clear transcendent chord rising toward Heaven. I believed, then, that I would have risen bodily… Continue reading Rachel Hartman
I can’t tell you I love you. The window is obvious and cold and the climate’s breath fogs it up, the world outside hindered. I think that is the word I want but it may be that I come to you in the inconvenient darkness saying I have not meant myself for a very long… Continue reading Paul Guest
I say one thing, you write another, and those who read you understand still something else! I say: cross, death, kingdom of heaven, God…and what do you understand? Each of you attaches his own suffering, interests and desires to each of these sacred words, and my words disappear, my soul is lost. I can’t stand… Continue reading Nikos Kazantzakis
I never said there’s a book inside every tree. I never said I know how the legless beggar feels when the memory of his toes itch. If I did, drunkenness was then my god & naked dancer. I take it back. I’m not a suicidal mooncalf; you don’t have to take my shoelaces. — Yusef… Continue reading Yusef Komunyakaa
writing fire and watching the syllables burn — Andrew Zawacki, from “section xv. Anachoeresis,” of “Mise-en-scène,” By Reason of Breakings (University of Georgia Press, 2002)
Fragment Sixty-eight . . . even in the house of Hades. –Sappho 1 I envy you your chance of death, how I envy you this. I am more covetous of him even than of your glance, I wish more from his presence though he torture me in a grasp, terrible, intense. Though he… Continue reading H. D.