Societies never know it, but the war of an artist with his society is a lover’s war, and he does, at his best, what lovers do, which is to reveal the beloved to himself and, with that revelation, to make freedom real. — James Baldwin, “The Creative Process,” Creative America. (The National Cultural Center /… Continue reading James Baldwin
Half of me is filled with bursting words and half of me is painfully shy. I crave solitude yet also crave people. I want to pour life and love into everything yet also nurture my self-care and go gently. I want to live within the rush of primal, intuitive decision, yet also wish to sit… Continue reading Victoria Erickson
Eternity buries itself in smaller things. How desperately I have wished for memories to be eternal, but eternity exists only insofar as it buries itself in smaller things. The photograph will exist longer than I can ever remember its being taken. Even the candle which burns exists longer than my recollection of the candle or… Continue reading Jacqueline Winter Thomas
And you, who cannot keep still, who can never look back, where will you go next? How will I find you? Can you feel the world pull apart, the seams loosen? What, tell me, will keep it whole, if not you? if not me? — Blas Falconer, from “Dear Friend,” A Question of Gravity and… Continue reading Blas Falconer
Six monarch butterfly cocoons clinging to the back of your throat— you could feel their gold wings trembling. You were alarmed. You felt infested. In the downstairs bathroom of the family home, gagging to spit them out— and a voice saying Don’t, don’t— — Dana Levin, “Ars Poetica (cocoons),” Wedding Day.… Continue reading Dana Levin
I have rarely desired an end to my desires. — Kathleen Graber, from “Book Nine” The Eternal City: Poems. (Princeton University Press; 1St Edition edition July 21, 2010)
In the forest a man sits a tree stands high a river runs through his silence. — Ben Wilson (age 10), “In the Forest,” 2014 Rattle Young Poets Anthology.