February 2011
8 posts
"What lasted is what the soul ate...
…The way a child knows the world by putting it part by part into his mouth. As I tried to gnaw my way into the Lord, working to put my heart against that heart. Lying in the wheat at night, letting the rain, after all the dry months, have me.”
The thing I’m most interested in is magnitude. I want love to be more than I can manage. I’ve always been fascinated by the...
“A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a...”
– Robert Frost
i waited for you, and i did not cry out. there was...
for he grew up like a root in dead earth; he did not have any form of majesty that we should have looked to him, nothing about his appearance that we should desire to know him. he was hated and rejected by people; he was a man of constant sorrow and knew infirmity well. and like a man from whom others turn away to hide their faces, he was despised and we thought nothing of him. but he bore our...
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joseph
something about this boy has spelled my tongue so even when my fingers tremble on mary my mouth cries only Jesus Jesus Jesus lucille clifton
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Necessary it is to live to love, to charge into...
Elegy on Toy Piano Dean Young You don’t need a pony to connect you to the unseeable or an airplane to connect you to the sky. Necessary it is to love to live and there are many manuals but in all important ways one is on one’s own. You need not cut off your hand. No need to eat a bouquet. Your head becomes a peach pit. Your tongue a honeycomb. Necessary it is...
"You hear silence speak."
invisiblestories:
It is very hard to live with silence. The real silence is death and this is terrible. To approach this silence, it is necessary to journey to the desert. You do not go to the desert to find identity, but to lose it, to lose your personality, to be anonymous. You make yourself void. You become silence. You become more silent than the silence around you. And...
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Michael Dickman, on poetry
This is how I remember the world, through images. The poet Paul Eluard said that “images think for him”. And if they don’t think for me, they are certainly doing the thinking in any poem I have ever written. Image first. No philosophies. Narrative does not dictate the image, the image dictates the narrative, as one of our great image makers, Charles Wright, says. Along those...
