Love means to learn to look at yourself The way one looks at distant things For you are only one thing among many. And whoever sees that way heals his heart, Without knowing it, from various ills A bird and a tree say to him: Friend. Then he wants to use himself and things So… Continue reading Czeslaw Milosz
All my life, my heart has yearned for a thing I cannot name. — André Breton, Mad Love. (Bison Books; Reprint edition, October 1, 1988) Originally published January 1st 1937.
Even now the moon grows more swollen and the stars throb deep in their black pockets. Bite me, bite me! — Stephen Dobyns, from “Pablo Neruda,” Velocities: New and Selected Poems 1966-1992 (Viking Penguin, 1994)