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Kimberly Grey

                                Portuguese – untranslatable word referring                                to the feeling of longing for something or someone                               that you love, which is lost. We love each other like brutes. Gorgeouslyand twilled. Any geography is hard. The skinends where skin ends.It’s mapless. I want to be borrowed, to beassembled, again. To feel a tug on the otherside of… Continue reading Kimberly Grey

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Jeanette Winterson

I have flown the distance of your body from side to side of your ivory coast. I know the forests where I can rest and feed. I have mapped you with my naked eye and stored you out of sight. The millions of cells that make up your tissues are plotted on my retina. Night… Continue reading Jeanette Winterson

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Sylvia Plath

(Vintage February 1, 1994) It is so beautiful to have no attachments!I am solitary as grass. What is it I miss?Shall I ever find, it whatever it is? I wait and ache. — Sylvia Plath, from “Three Women; A Poem For Three Voices,” The Collected Poems. (Harper Perennial Modern Classics; Reprint edition September 2, 2008)

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Franz Kafka

Since I love you (and I do love you, you stupid one, as the sea loves a pebble in its depths, this is just how my love engulfs you – and may I in turn be the pebble with you, if Heaven permits), I love the whole world and this includes your left shoulder, no,… Continue reading Franz Kafka

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Hunter S. Thompson

We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers… and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two… Continue reading Hunter S. Thompson

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James Wright

But I have burned already down to bone.There is a fire that burns beyond the namesOf sludge and filth of which this world is made.Agony sears the dark flesh of the body,And lifts me higher than the smoke, to riseAbove the earth, above the sacrifice;Until my soul flares outward like a blueBlossom of gas fire… Continue reading James Wright

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Eugène Ionesco

I have always thought that the truth of fiction is more profound, more charged with meaning than everyday reality. Realism […] falls short of reality. It shrinks it, attenuates it, falsifies it, it does not take into account our basic truths and our fundamental obsessions: Love, death, astonishment. It presents man in a reduced and… Continue reading Eugène Ionesco

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Poetry · Collection · Classic · Contemporary · Asian Culture · American Literature

Li-Young Lee

This Room and Everything in It Lie still nowwhile I prepare for my future,certain hard days ahead,when I’ll need what I know so clearly this moment. I am making useof the one thing I learnedof all the things my father tried to teach me:  the art of memory. I am letting this roomand everything in… Continue reading Li-Young Lee

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Mark Z. Danielewski

You might try then, as I did, to find a sky so full of stars it will blind you again. Only no sky can blind you now. Even with all that iridescent magic up there, your eye will no longer linger on the light, it will no longer trace constellations. You’ll care only about the… Continue reading Mark Z. Danielewski

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