Clear Night Clear night, thumb-top of a moon, a back-lit sky. Moon-fingers lay down their same routine On the side deck and the threshold, the white keys and the black keys. Bird hush and bird song. A cassia flower falls. I want to be bruised by God. I want to be strung up in a… Continue reading Charles Wright
Do not give yourself away. Never give yourself away. Observe the bloodshed but preserve your warmth. I want you to occasionally let go; but never surrender. — Albert Camus, Notebooks, 1951-1959. (Ivan R. Dee; First Edition U.S. edition April 2, 2008) Originally published 1989.
When blood was gushing forth from the anxious temples of my desire When my life was nothing other than the ticking of the clock I realized that I must love That I must madly love. — Forugh Farrokhzad, from “Window” (1967), translated by Farzaneh Milani from the Persian. The New York Times: The Opinion Pages.… Continue reading Forugh Farrokhzad
I want you to know, if you ever read this, there was a time when I would rather have had you by my side than any one of these words; I would rather have had you by my side than all the blue in the world. — Maggie Nelson, Bluets. (Wave Books; 2nd Printing edition… Continue reading Maggie Nelson
Desire, desire, desire. The longing for the dance stirs in the buried life. One season only, and it’s done. So let the battered old willow thrash against the windowpanes and the house timbers creak. Darling, do you remember the man you married? Touch me, remind me who I am. — Stanley Kunitz, from “Touch Me,”… Continue reading Stanley Kunitz
Stars are beautiful, but they may not take an active part in anything, they must just look on for ever. It is a punishment put on them for something they did so long ago that no star now knows what it was. So the older ones have become glassy-eyed and seldom speak (winking is the… Continue reading J. M. Barrie
Swift wing! Space! My Soul! Now I know it is true what I guessed at; What I guessed when I loafed on the grass, What I guessed when I lay alone in my bed … . and again as I walked the beach under the paling stars of the morning. My ties and ballasts… Continue reading Walt Whitman