Rabindranath Tagore
Love’s gift cannot be given, it waits to be accepted. — Rabindranath Tagore
Month: November 2020
Federico Garcia Lorca
They’ve bought me a shell. It sings insidea sea on a map.My heartfills up with waterwith a little fishshadow & silver. They’ve brought me a shell. —Federico Garcia Lorca, “Caracola,” Lorca/Blackburn: Poems of Federico Garcia Lorca chosen and translated by Paul Blackburn. Small Pr Distribution, 1979
Victor Hugo
I have been loving you a little more every minute since this morning. — Victor Hugo, Les Misérables. (A. Lacroix, Verboeckhoven & Cie. 1862)
Nin Andrews
My Aphrodisiac Now that you are gone, I want to tell you, you are wrong. About everything. Consider perspective as a case in point. You loved to inform me that far-away things appear smaller. I am here to tell you that distant things grow bigger. Missing objects are the largest of all. Their shadows can… Continue reading Nin Andrews
Charles Bukowski
Baby, in a couple of minutes I’m going to rip off your god damned panties and show you some turkey neck you’ll remember all the way to the graveside. I have a vast and curved penis, like a sickle, and many a gutted pussy has gasped come upon my callous and roach-smeared rug. First let… Continue reading Charles Bukowski
Anne Michaels
Memory insists with its sea voice,muttering from its bone cave.Memory wraps uslike the shell wraps the sea.Nothing to carry,some stones to fill our pockets,to give weight to what we have. — Anne Michaels, from “Memoriam,” The Weight of Oranges. Miner’s Pond. McClelland & Stewart (1997)
Rob Brezsny
I demand that the purveyors of despair who pretend to be dispassionate observes of the human condition go ahead and disclose that the 10 most beautiful words in the English languages are chimes, dawn, golden, hush, lullaby, luminous, melody, mist, murmuring, and tranquil; that Java sparrows prefer the music of Bach over that of Schoenberg;… Continue reading Rob Brezsny
Charles Wright
I keep on thinking. If I sit here for long enough,A line, one true line,Will rise like some miraculous fish to the surface,Brilliant and lithe in the late sunlight,And offer itself into my hands.I keep thinking that as the weeks go by, and the waters never change. — Charles Wright, from “21,” Littlefoot: A Poem… Continue reading Charles Wright
Marcel Proust
The only true voyage, the only bath in the Fountain of Youth, would be not to visit strange lands but to possess other eyes, to see the universe through the eyes of another, of a hundred others, to see the hundred universes that each of them sees, that each of them is; and this we… Continue reading Marcel Proust
Billy Collins
Just as the hare is zipping across the finish line,the tortoise has stopped once againby the roadside,this time to stick out his neckand nibble a bit of sweet grass,unlike the previous timewhen he was distractedby a bee humming in the heart of a wildflower. — Billy Collins, “My Hero.” Superstition Review Issue 4, Fall… Continue reading Billy Collins
The Vale of Soul-Making 