Isn’t the moon dark too, most of the time? And doesn’t the white page seem unfinished without the dark stain of alphabets? When God demanded light, he didn’t banish darkness. Instead he invented ebony and crows and that small mole on your left cheekbone.…
4 tygodnie temu
I waited for my life to start for years, standing at bus stops looking into the curved distance thinking each bus was the wrong bus; or lost in books where I would travel without luggage from one page to another; where the only breeze was the rustle of pages turning,…
4 tygodnie temu
I am learning to abandon the world before it can abandon me. Already I have given up the moon and snow, closing my shades against the claims of white. And the world has taken my father, my friends. I have given up melodic lines of hills,…
4 tygodnie temu
Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes in its odd color or the way…
4 tygodnie temu
I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand on its dangerous banks and watch it carry with it every twig every dry leaf and branch in its path every scruple when we see it so swollen with runoff that even as we watch we must grab each other…
4 tygodnie temu
Because the night you asked me, the small scar of the quarter moon had healed—the moon was whole again; because life seemed so short; because life stretched before me like the darkened halls of nightmare; because I knew exactly what I wanted; because I knew exactly nothing;…
4 tygodnie temu
It is more onerous than the rites of beauty or housework, harder than love. But you expect it of me casually, the way you expect the sun to come up, not in spite of rain or clouds but because of them.…
4 tygodnie temu