This body, though fragile, fits.The intervals slip easily out of the throat:Minor third, flat seventh, flat fifth. Everything now is purpose and light,Evening air transparent as a glass of everclear.Sorrow in the music, yes, but hollow bones float His blueness, a flash in infinity, sheer atmosphere—Maybe holy, he thinks, but don’t quote him on it:Once… Continue reading T.R. Hummer
Elektra : I ask this one thing: / let me go mad in my own way. — Sophokles, Electra (Greek Tragedy in New Translations) Trans. Anne Carson (Oxford University Press, April 19, 2001)
You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet. ― Franz Kafka
How deep we met in the sea, my love,My double, my Siamese heart, my whiskery,Fish-belly, glue-eyed prince, my dearest black nudge,How flat and reflective my eye reflecting youBlue, gorgeous in the weaving grassesI wound round for your crown, how I loved your touchOn my fair, speckled breast, or was it my own turning;How nobly you… Continue reading Jean Valentine
And the too much of my speaking:heaped up round the littlecrystal dressed in the style of your silence. — Paul Celan, from “Below,” Poetry Magazine December 1971
But my love had no intentions: it knew the future. All one could do was try to make the future less hard, to break the future gently when it came. ― Graham Greene
The Vale of Soul-Making 