I, 45 You come and go. The doors swing closed ever more gently, almost without a shudder. Of all those who move through the quiet houses, you are the quietest. We become so accustomed to you, we no longer look up when your shadow falls over the book we are reading and makes it glow.… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke
Each night is a tree to hang from. — Charles Wright, from “Nightdream,” Poetry (August 1973)
The truth is, goddesses are lousy in bed. They will do anything it’s true. And the skin is beautifully cared for. But they have no sense of it. They are all manner and amazing technique. I lie with them thinking of your foolish excess, of you panting and sweating, and your eyes after. Jack Gilbert,… Continue reading Jack Gilbert
There is some kind of a sweet innocence in being human- in not having to be just happy or just sad- in the nature of being able to be both broken and whole, at the same time. ― C. JoyBell C.
The moon drops one or two feathers into the field. The dark wheat listens. Be still. Now. There they are, the moon’s young, trying Their wings. Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone Wholly, into the air. I… Continue reading James Wright
In spite of everything I loved you, and will go on loving you – on my knees, with my shoulders drawn back, showing my heels to the headsman and straining my goose neck – even then. And afterwards – perhaps most of all afterwards – I shall love you, and one day we shall have… Continue reading Vladamir Nabokov
If we knew the point where something is going to break, where the thread of kisses will be cut, where a look will no longer meet another, where the heart will leap toward another place, we could put another point on that point or at least go with it to its breaking. — Roberto Juarroz,… Continue reading Roberto Juarroz