I heard a dying man Say to his gathered kin, “My soul’s hung out to dry, Like a fresh salted skin; I doubt I’ll use it again. “What’s done is yet to come; The flesh deserts the bone, But a kiss widens the rose I know, as the dying know Eternity is Now. “A man… Continue reading Theodore Roethke
The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the soul, opening into that cosmic night which was psyche long before there was any ego-consciousness, and which will remain psyche no matter how far our ego-consciousness extends. ― C. G. Jung
I know the old season is almost over, and I almost love my own shadow again– — Eamon Grennan, from “In Late February,” Relations: New & Selected Poems (Graywolf Press, 1998)
Love or hatred calls for self-surrender. He cuts a fine figure, the warm-blooded, prosperous man, solidly entrenched in his well-being, who one fine day surrenders all to love—or to hatred; himself, his house, his land, his memories. ― Jean-Paul Sartre, No Exit and Three Other Plays. (Vintage; Reissue edition, October 23, 1989) Originally published 1947.
Eternalise me just a bit: take some snow and sculpt me in it, with your warm and bare palm polish me until I shine . . . — Vera Pavlova, “Eternalise me just a bit.” Translation Steven Seymour. Poetry International Web.