I had the dream where you read your own poems, Like those written sometime ago, only these were in the grey book written after death… And you look finer, paler and tinier every passing moment, Then you disappear. The last to vanish were your hands And only the poems were left unharmed And in the… Continue reading Grażyna Chrostowska
Tell me what’s the difference between hope and waiting because my heart doesn’t know it constantly cuts itself on the glass of waiting it constantly gets lost in the fog of hope — Anna Kamienska, “Difference,” Astonishments: Selected Poems of Anna Kamienska. (Paraclete Press (MA); First Edition edition July 1, 2007) Originally published 2007.
Do you know how it is when one wakes at night suddenly and asks, listening to the pounding heart: what more do you want, insatiable? — Czeslaw Milosz, from “Farewell” (1945). New and Collected Poems (1931 – 2001) Ecco; Reprint edition (March 25, 2003) Originally published January 1st 2001.
The sky creaks with the plumes of unread poets. — Anna Kamienska, from “In That Great River: A Notebook.” Poetry (June 1st, 2010)
I RESTORE lost love. Act now! Special offer! You lie on last year’s grass bathed in sunlight to the chin while winds of summers past caress your hair and seem to lead you in a dance. For further details, write: “Dream.” — Wisława Szymborska, from “Classifieds,” Poems, New and Collected, 1957-1997. (Mariner Books; 1 edition… Continue reading Wisława Szymborska
I don’t believe in the next world. The world is one. One reality. Death isn’t a gateway to the next world, maybe just the opening of blind eyes. – Anna Kamienska, from “Industrious Amazement: A Notebook,” Poetry, Mar2011, Vol. 197 Issue 6, p503.
We are an echo that runs, skittering, through a train of rooms. – Czeslaw Milosz, from “The Wormwood Star.” The Separate Notebooks. (Ecco September 21, 1986) Originally published 1984.