The other one, the one called Borges, is the one things happen to. I walk through the streets of Buenos Aires and stop for a moment, perhaps mechanically now, to look at the arch of an entrance hall and the grillwork on the gate; I know of Borges from the mail and see his name… Continue reading Jorge Luis Borges
I’m not sure what poetry is, although I’m good at finding it anywhere: in a conversation, in the lyrics of a tango, in books of metaphysics, in sayings, and even in some poems. — Jorge Luis Borges
your voice in this inability to escape my gaze things rid themselves of me if it isn’t your voice turn me into a boat on a river of stones a rain isolated in my fevered silence you undo my eyes and I ask you please to speak to me forever —Alejandra Pizarnik, from “Presence,” Extracting… Continue reading Alejandra Pizarnik
On an instant that today stands out alone, Without before or after, against oblivion, And has the taste of everything lost, Everything lost and recovered. There is nostalgia in every chord: — Jorge Luis Borges, from “The Tango,” A Personal Anthology (Grove Press, 1967)
We become aware of the void as we fill it. ― Antonio Porchia
No one is anyone, one single immortal man is all men. Like Cornelius Agrippa, I am god, I am hero, I am philosopher, I am demon and I am world, which is a tedious way of saying that I do not exist. — Jorge Luis Borges, “The Immortal,” Labyrinths: Selected Stories & Other Writings. (New… Continue reading Jorge Luis Borges
[All night I hear the noise of water sobbing.] All night I hear the noise of water sobbing. All night I make night in me, I make the day that begins on my account, that sobs because day falls like water through night. All night I hear the voice of someone seeking me out.… Continue reading Alejandra Pizarnik
