"The last time I held him, the last time we spoke, just
a whisper—hoarse—that marries now this many-voiced mansion
of storm and from him I’ve learned to slip my body,
to be the storm governed by the law of bounty given
then taken away. Shush and glide. This tide’s running
high, its silken muscular tearing ruled by cycles,
relentless, the drawn lavish damasks—teal, aquamarine,
silvered steel, desire’s tidal forces, such urgent
fullness, the elaborate collapse, and withdrawal
beyond the drawn curtain that shows the secret
desert of bare ruched sand. I’ve learned this,
I’ve learned to be the horn calling home
the journeyer, saying farewell. And here’s
the foghorn’s simple two-note wail,
mechanical stark aria that ripples
out to shelter all of us—
our mortal burden of dreams—
adrift in the sea’s restless shouldering."
— Lynda Hull, from “Rivers into Seas”
a whisper—hoarse—that marries now this many-voiced mansion
of storm and from him I’ve learned to slip my body,
to be the storm governed by the law of bounty given
then taken away. Shush and glide. This tide’s running
high, its silken muscular tearing ruled by cycles,
relentless, the drawn lavish damasks—teal, aquamarine,
silvered steel, desire’s tidal forces, such urgent
fullness, the elaborate collapse, and withdrawal
beyond the drawn curtain that shows the secret
desert of bare ruched sand. I’ve learned this,
I’ve learned to be the horn calling home
the journeyer, saying farewell. And here’s
the foghorn’s simple two-note wail,
mechanical stark aria that ripples
out to shelter all of us—
our mortal burden of dreams—
adrift in the sea’s restless shouldering."
"And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire."
— Anna Akhmatova, You Will Hear Thunder, trans. D. M. Thomas
![Emily Dickinson’s manuscript of “[The way Hope builds his House]”](http://25.media.tumblr.com/8d395538b51803bbe18f15e5f4654af5/tumblr_mmxby84JUN1qc2mclo1_500.jpg)
"First thing we should do / if we see each other again is to make / a cage of our bodies—inside we can place / whatever still shines."
— Nick Flynn, from “forgetting something”
"Sweet miracle of our empty hands."
— Georges Bernanos, The Diary of a Country Priest, trans. Pamela Morris
"What I have loved so far, I have loved in order to be able to love you."
— Paul Celan, from a letter to his wife Gisèle, 1952
"I had love once in the palm of my hand.
See the lines there."
— John Wieners, from “A Poem for Painters” (thanks, deskofalex)
See the lines there."
"… sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out,
one moment your life is a stone in you, the next a star."
— Rainer Maria Rilke, from “Sunset” in Selected Poems, trans. Robert Bly
one moment your life is a stone in you, the next a star."
"You are my stranger and see how we have closed. On both ends.
Night wets me all night, blind, carried.
…
Would I dance with you? Both forever and rather die.
It would be like dying, yes. Yes I would."
— Brenda Shaughnessy, from “Project for a Fainting”
Night wets me all night, blind, carried.
…
Would I dance with you? Both forever and rather die.
It would be like dying, yes. Yes I would."
"There is no beyond except
In the mind, which is
It turns out the body after all
Where we live, whole-
Hearted. Where surface will not hold
We must shatter."
— Katharine Coles, from “Here Be Monsters”
In the mind, which is
It turns out the body after all
Where we live, whole-
Hearted. Where surface will not hold
We must shatter."
"Beneath the skull, a nest of quiet."
— Anna Kamienska, from “A Nest of Quiet,” trans. Clare Cavanagh
