James Dickey
A poet is someone who stands outside in the rain hoping to be struck by lightning. — James Dickey
Month: September 2020
E.E. Cummings
dive for dreamsor a slogan may topple you(trees are their rootsand wind is wind) trust your heartif the seas catch fire(and live by lovethough the stars walk backward) – E.E. Cummings, from “[dive for dreams],” 95 Poems. (Liveright August 17, 2002) Originally published 1958.
Dave Eggers
I like the dark part of the night, after midnight and before four-thirty, when it’s hollow, when ceilings are harder and farther away. Then I can breathe, and can think while others are sleeping, in a way can stop time, can have it so – this has always been my dream – so that while… Continue reading Dave Eggers
Thomas James
Dragging the Lake They are skimming the lake with wooden hooks.Where the oak throws its handful of shadowsChildren are gathering fireflies.I wait in the deep olive fluxAs their cries ricochet out of the dark.Lights spear the water. I hear the oak speak. It foists its mouthful of sibilantsOn a sky involved with a stillborn moon,On… Continue reading Thomas James
Shivani Mehta
You unzip my dress, a curve from the side of my left breast to the top of my hip. My body is a column of butterflies. One by one, roused by the light and cool air, they wake from sleep. One by one they open their wings, responding to some deep internal pressure, the instinct… Continue reading Shivani Mehta
Sara Teasdale
It will not hurt me when I am old,A running tide where moonlight burnedWill not sting me like silver snakes;The years will make me sad and cold,It is the happy heart that breaks. The heart asks more than life can give,When that is learned, then all is learned;The waves break fold on jewelled fold,But beauty itself… Continue reading Sara Teasdale
Sherman Alexie
On my computer, the bathroom mirror, the front door, and the refrigerator are sticky notes that share the same message: ‘I’ll respect your various hungers if you respect mine.’ — Sherman Alexie, “Scenes from a Life,” Blasphemy: New and Selected Stories. (Grove Press October 8, 2013)
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
The Moon, how definite its orb!Yet gaze again, and with a steady gaze—‘Tis there indeed,—but where is it not?—It is suffused o’er all the sapphire Heaven,Trees, herbage, snake-like stream, unwrinkled Lake,Whose very murmur does of it partakeAnd low and close the broad smooth mountainIs more a thing of Heaven than whenDistinct by one dim shade… Continue reading Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Albert Camus
She was breathing deeply, she forgot the cold, the weight of beings, the insane or static life, the long anguish of living or dying. After so many years running from fear, fleeing crazily, uselessly, she was finally coming to a halt. At the same time she seemed to be recovering her roots, and the sap… Continue reading Albert Camus
William Stafford
There’s a thread you follow. It goes amongthings that change. But it doesn’t change.People wonder about what you are pursuing.You have to explain about the thread.But it is hard for others to see.While you hold it you can’t get lost.Tragedies happen; people get hurtor die; and you suffer and get old.Nothing you do can stop… Continue reading William Stafford
The Vale of Soul-Making 