Do not remember me as disaster nor as the keeper of secrets I am a fellow rider in the cattle cars watching you move slowly out of my bed saying we cannot waste time only ourselves. — Audre Lorde, from “Movement Song,” The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde (W. W. Norton and Company Inc. 1997)
There is always more than you know. There are always boxes put away in the cellar, worn shoes and cherished pictures, notes you find later, sheet music you can’t play. — Margaret Atwood, from “Dancing,” Morning in the Burned House. (Mariner Books; Reprint edition September 16, 1996)
You told me you like my mouth. You want to kiss me. My mouth is a wound and you want to kiss me. But you’re like that: You want to go leaping over cliffs– you want to go drinking poison and then write pretty poems about it– and all I want to do is fuck… Continue reading Daphne Gottlieb
You want to ask, am I lonely? Well, of course, lonely as a woman driving across country day after day, leaving behind mile after mile little towns she might have stopped and lived and died in. — Adrienne Rich, from “Song,” Diving Into the Wreck: Poems 1971-1972. (W. W. Norton & Company; Later edition edition… Continue reading Adrienne Rich
Who can tell what metals the gods use in forging the subtle bond which we call sympathy, which we might as well call love. — Kate Chopin, The Awakening. (Adamant Media Corporation September 13, 2000) Originally published 1899.
Sorrow like a ceaseless rain Beats upon my heart. People twist and scream in pain, — Dawn will find them still again; This has neither wax nor wane, Neither stop nor start. People dress and go to town; I sit in my chair. All my thoughts are slow and brown: Standing up… Continue reading Edna St. Vincent Millay
I’ve seen people misplace themselves in such a heart flare-up. Watched their temperatures drop and I don’t know much about wilderness but on days like these when you are harder to find I want to learn the word seasons properly. Feel its backside roll against my molars so I can feel free, like when we… Continue reading Angel Nafis