in Spring comes(no- one asks his name) a mender of things with eager fingers(with patient eyes)… — E. E. Cummings, from “Spring,” Selected Poems. (Liveright; New Ed edition, 12 Oct. 1994)
With shadows I draw worlds, I scatter worlds with shadows. I hear the light beat on the other side. — Octavio Paz, from “This Side,” The Collected Poems of Octavio Paz: 1957-1987, trans. Eliot Weinberger (New Directions, 1987)
the sky a silver dissonance by the correct fingers of April resolved into a clutter of trite jewels — E. E. Cummings, from “Impressions: the sky a sliver,” Tulips and Chimneys. (Liveright; 2nd Revised ed. Edition, August 17, 1996) Originally published 1923.
I’m telling you, you are in your fate, tied to the flawed pink diamond, the woman’s knee resting where, to her astonishment, the admirable flounce of foam breaks again. You have hands for losing what you haven’t found. You’re motionless, chained to the cold rock above the cliff, at the climax of the whole tragedy… Continue reading André Breton
I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness — E. E. Cummings, from “i will wade out,” 100 Selected Poems. . (Grove Press January 10, 1994) Originally published 1954.
Even when we sleep we watch over each other And this love heavier than a lake’s ripe fruit Without laughter or tears lasts forever One day after another one night after us. — Paul Éluard, “Even When We Sleep,” source unknown.
Alone with our madness and favorite flower We see that there really is nothing left to write about. Or rather, it is necessary to write about the same old things In the same way, repeating the same things over and over For love to continue and be gradually different. — John Ashbery, from “Late Echo,” … Continue reading John Ashbery