Shoveling Snow with Buddha In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok you would never see him doing such a thing, tossing the dry snow over the mountain of his bare, round shoulder, his hair tied in a knot, a model of concentration. Sitting is more his speed, if that is the… Continue reading Billy Collins
And finally, love is magic, as is hatred, too, imprinting as they do upon the brain the image of a being whom we allow to haunt us. — Marguerite Yourcenar, L’Œuvre au noir/The Abyss. (Assimil Gmbh; Presumed to be 1st as edition is unstated edition June 25, 1976) Originally published 1968.
There’s a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I’m too tough for him, I say, stay in there, I’m not going to let anybody see you. — Charles Bukowski, from “Bluebird,” The Last Night of the Earth Poems. (Ecco May 31, 2002) Originally published January 1st 1992.
She had immense eyes that always seemed in danger of capsizing in their own innocence. —J.D. Salinger, “A Girl I Knew,” The Complete Uncollected Short Stories of J. D. Salinger. (1951) Originally published February 1948 in Good Housekeeping.
oh baby i want to be your direct object. you know, that is to say i want to be on the other side of all the verbs i know you know how to use. ― Daphne Gottlieb, from “watch your tense and case,” Pelt. (Odd Girls Press; 1st edition June 1999)
She was ready to deny the existence of space and time rather than admit that love might not be eternal. ― Simone de Beauvoir, The Mandarins. (HarperPerennial May 3, 2005) Originally published October 21st 1954.
Love is like sounds, whose last reverberations Hang on the leaves of strange trees, on mountains As distant as the curving of the earth, Where snow still hangs in the middle of the air. —Donald Hall, from “Love is Like Sounds,” Old and New Poems. (Ticknor & Fields; First Edition edition July 23, 1990)
The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched. They must be felt with the heart. — Helen Keller
Realize you don’t know where you’re going and the weather changes often. Steer between the stars like songbirds coming back at night. Listen to the whirring of a thousand, thousand miles of dark. —Susan Elbe, from “How to Fall in Love.” diode: poetry. fall 2008 volume 2 numb er 1
Here I am trying to live, or rather, I am trying to teach the death within me how to live. – Jean Cocteau
The Vale of Soul-Making 