I saw you I saw you in the distance in front of the wall I saw the hole of your shadow on the wall There was still some sand left And your bare feet Your footprints that went on and on How would I have known you The… Continue reading Pierre Reverdy
Forgotten things grasped at things to be forgotten… — Paul Celan, from “Pain, the Syllable,” Paul Celan: Glottal Stop, 101 Poems, translated by Nikolai Popov and Heather McHugh (Hanover and London: WesleyanUniversity Press, 2000).
what a wonderful thing is the end of a string (murmurs little you-i as the hill becomes nil) and will somebody tell me why people let go — E.E. Cummings, from “o by the by”, Selected Poems 1923-1958. (Penguin Books, January 1, 1963)
The mind of the dreaming man is fully satisfied with whatever happens to it. The agonizing question of possibility does not arise. Kill, plunder more quickly, love as much as you wish. And if you die, are you not sure of being roused from the dead? Let yourself be led. Events will not tolerate deferment.… Continue reading André Breton
How slow life is, how violent hope is. ― Guillaume Apollinaire
L’union libre [Freedom of Love] My wife with the hair of a wood fire With the thoughts of heat lightning With the waist of an hourglass With the waist of an otter in the teeth of a tiger My wife with the lips of a cockade and of a bunch of stars of the last… Continue reading André Breton
There was only one huge word with no back to it A word like a sun One day it broke into tiny pieces They were the words of the language we now speak Pieces that will never come together Broken mirrors where the world sees itself shattered — Octavio Paz, “Fable,” Selected Poems (New Directions… Continue reading Octavio Paz