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Franz Wright

I have to sleep to think sometimes— waking into sleep where we find a world reversed where muteness is speech, blindness sight, deafness music that haunts you alone, and that place exists where the poem is not written; where the need to write is not. — Franz Wright, from “Untitled,” Earlier Poems (Alfred A. Knopf,… Continue reading Franz Wright

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Franz Wright

Blot me out, fill me with nothing but consciousness of the holiness, the meaning of these unseeable, all these unvisitable worlds which surround me: other’s actual thoughts—everything I can’t perceive yet know know it is there. — Franz Wright, from “Why Is The Winter Light,” God’s Silence: Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 2006)

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Franz Wright

the poem               writing the poet— Anvil of solitude … Heart that wonderfully lasted                                     until I learned how to write what it so longed to say — Franz Wright, from “Poem {for Frank Bidart},” Earlier Poems (Alfred A. Knopf, 2007)

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American Culture · American Literature · Classic · Collection · Contemporary · Excerpt · Passage · Poetry

Franz Wright

I do notice the more I lose touch with what I previously saw as my life the more real my spot in the dark winter pew becomes— it is infinite. What we experience as space, the sky that is, the sun, the stars is intimate and rather small by comparison. — Franz Wright, from “Letter,… Continue reading Franz Wright

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