Naked Except for the Jewelry “And,” she said, “you must talk no more about ecstasy. It is loneliness.” The woman wandered about picking up her shoes and silks. “You said you loved me,” the man said. “We tell lies,” she said, brushing her wonderful hair, naked except for the jewelry. “We try to believe.” “you… Continue reading Jack Gilber
I would listen to my heartbeat. I couldn’t imagine that this sound which had been with me for so long could ever stop. — Albert Camus, The Stranger. (Vintage, March 13, 1989) Originally published 1942.
Everything’s like that, more or less. The heart moves in jolts. Living means not meeting up with yourself. At the end of it all, if I’m tired, I’ll sleep. But I’d like to meet you and for us to speak. I’m sure we’d get along well, you and I. But if we don’t meet, I’ll… Continue reading Fernando Pessoa
You can compose poetry in whatever form you like. If it seems a seventeenth-centruy habit to begin lines with capital letters, you can go in for the liquid transitions of greater simplicity; and so on. It is not that nobody cares. It matters immensely. The slightest sound matters. The most momentary rhythm matters. You can… Continue reading Wallace Stevens
I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself. Make love to me like you know I am better than the worst thing I ever did. Go slow. I’m new to this. But I have seen nearly every city from a rooftop without jumping. I have realized that the moon… Continue reading Buddy Wakefield