I don’t know how to become one with you. If you’re heaven, then tell me. I will kneel to every god. If you’re hell, then tell me. I will fill the earth with sin. I don’t know how to become one with you. If you’re an invaded soil, then tell me. I will make my… Continue reading Abdulla Pashew
Most writers waste people’s time with too many words. I’m trying to reduce everything down to the minimum. My last work will be a blank piece of paper. — Samuel Beckett
we reread letters the dead once sent and imagine different answers everything becomes clear once it is too late there is not enough thread of regret left to string the shards of our night — Amina Saïd, from “The Mothers.” Poems Without Borders: July 2011 issue. Translated from French by Marilyn Hacker.