all she wanted was the smell of the sea, of disappearance. — Louise Glück, from “March,” The New Yorker: Poems March 31, 2008 Issue.
I am tired of having hands she said I want wings— But what will you do without your hands to be human? I am tired of human she said I want to live on the sun— — Louise Glück, from “Blue Rotunda,” Poems 1962-2012. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux July 8, 2014) Originally published January 1st… Continue reading Louise Glück
End of Winter Over the still world, a bird calls waking solitary among black boughs. You wanted to be born; I let you be born. When has my grief ever gotten in the way of your pleasure? Plunging ahead into the dark and light at the same time eager for sensation as though you were… Continue reading Louise Glück
Far away you turn your head: through still grass the wind moves into a human language and the darkness comes, the long nights pass into stationary darkness. Only the sea moves. — Louise Glück, from “The Swimmer”, The House on Marshland. (The Ecco Press April 30th 1984) Originally published 1976,
I think here I will leave you. It has come to seem there is no perfect ending. Indeed, there are infinite endings. Or perhaps, once one begins, there are only endings. – Louise Glück, from “Faithful and Virtuous Night,” Faithful and Virtuous Night: Poems. (Farrar, Straus and Giroux; Reprint edition September 1, 2015)
Intense love always leads to mourning. — Louise Glück, Triumph of Achilles. (Ecco Pr; First Edition edition May 1987)
Lived to see you throwing Me aside. That fought Like netted fish inside me. Saw you throbbing In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see That all that all flushed down The refuse. Done? It lives in me. You live in me. Malignant. Love, you ever want me, don’t. — Louise Glück, “Hesitate… Continue reading Louise Glück