To have loved the way it happens in the empty hours of late afternoon; to lean back and conceive of a journey leaving behind no trace of itself; to look out from the house and see a figure leaning forward as if into the wind although there is no wind; to see the hats of… Continue reading Mark Strand
The stone is a mirror which works poorly. Nothing in it but dimness. Your dimness or its dim- ness, who’s to say? In the hush your heart sounds like a black cricket. — Charles Simic, “The stone is … ,” The World Doesn’t End: Prose Poems (Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1989)
“We say release, and radiance, and roses,” We say release, and radiance, and roses, and echo upon everything that’s known; and yet, behind the world our names enclose is the nameless: our true archetype and home. The sun seems male, and earth is like a woman, the field is humble, and the forest proud; but… Continue reading Rainer Maria Rilke
The sky creaks with the plumes of unread poets. — Anna Kamienska, from “In That Great River: A Notebook.” Poetry (June 1st, 2010)
Believe me these are not just words talking. This is my life, thinking of the darkness to follow. — Mary Oliver, from “Sand Dabs, Three,” West Wind: Poems and Prose Poems (Houghton Mifflin, 1997)
In that book which is my memory, On the first page of the chapter that is the day when I first met you, Appear the words, “Here begins a new life”. — Dante Alighieri, from Vita Nuova (Oxford University Press, 1999, originally published in 1225)
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.