I feel like moonlight Abiding a dark lake You’re soft as deep water Everywhere like the stars When I lean down Kiss you I bloody my lips With the good dirt of the earth — Frank Stanford, from “The Earth in You,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015) Advertisements
When so many are lonely as seem to be lonely, it would be inexcusably selfish to be lonely alone. ― Tennessee Williams, Camino Real. (New Directions; 1 edition, January 17, 1970) Originally published 1948) Originally published 1948.
He had a word, too. Love, he called it. But I had been used to words for a long time. I knew that that word was like the others: just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear.… Continue reading William Faulkner
I hear birds and whispers Like water gnawing a hull I build a fire In the bottom of my boat A good memory moves me through the current —Frank Stanford, from “If She Lives in the Hills,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)
Writing a novel is a terrible experience, during which the hair often falls out and the teeth decay. I’m always irritated by people who imply that writing fiction is an escape from reality. It is a plunge into reality and it’s very shocking to the system. — Flannery O’Connor, Mystery and Manners: Occasional Prose. (Farrar,… Continue reading Flannery O’Connor
My sadness waves back like the heads of grain in another’s fields, it cannot be combined, and no one is hungry. — Frank Stanford, from “Frank Stanford Calls Back to the Owl Who Lives a Hundred Years,” What About This: Collected Poems of Frank Stanford (Copper Canyon Press, 2015)
…I give you the mausoleum of all hope and desire…I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you might forget it now and then for a moment and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it. Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even… Continue reading William Faulkner