March 2012
If you stand
there long enough the air will thicken
with dusk and...
– Philip Levine, from “How to Get There” (via proustitute)
February 2012
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I would never be part of anything. I would never really belong anywhere, and I...
– Jean Rhys, Smile Please: An Unfinished Autobiography (via lydianea)
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Already is seems to me that I have spent a lifetime in this narrow room whose...
– Anna Kavan, Asylum Piece
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I had a friend, a lover. Or did I dream it? So many dreams are crowding upon me...
– Anna Kavan, Asylum Piece
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Yet genius of a sort must have existed among women as it must have existed among...
– Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
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I see nothing. We may sink and settle on the waves. The sea will drum in my...
– Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via lavandula)
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You cannot let me walk inside you too long inside
the veins where my small feet...
– Diane Wakoski, from “Inside Out” (adapted from sharingpoetry and poshpunk)
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From the grey sky that lowered over the city outside a few isolated snowflakes...
– W.G. Sebald, Austerlitz (translated by Anthea Bell)
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Why am I compelled to write?… Because the world I create in the writing...
– Gloria Anzaldúa (via modernmalaise)
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I saw your lips, your nakedness, the trees,
that dappled light. I dreamt of...
– Luke Davies, from Totem Poem (via proustitute)
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Glitter Tongue →
Glitter Tongue is an online collection of love poems by thirty queer and trans poets, launching Valentines Day 2012. It grew out of a collective writing effort among Margaret Rhee, Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha, Tamiko Beyer, Oliver Bendorf, Meg Day, and Ching-In Chen.
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Here, glittertonguing, we all try, in concert, to say love...
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The only things
between me and death are these words, as long as I
carry them...
– Minnie Bruce Pratt, from “No Time to be Afraid”
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The Modernist Journals Project →
The MJP is a multi-faceted project that aims to be a major resource for the study of modernism and its rise in the English-speaking world, with periodical literature as its central concern. The historical scope of the project has a chronological range of 1890 to 1922 (though the earliest journals that currently appear on the site date from 1896 and 1904), and a geographical range that extends to...
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Perhaps the link to pursue, then, is not the one between passion and truth, but...
– from Jacqueline Rose’s “This is not a biography”, a defense of psychoanalytic readings of Sylvia Plath’s work (via confusionis)
On mornings when I hope you forget my name,
I walk through the high wet weeds...
– Dean Young, from “Selected Recent and New Errors” (via proustitute)
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I am accused. I dream of massacres.
I am a garden of black and red agonies. I...
– Sylvia Plath, from “Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices”
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Is there no way out of the mind?
– Sylvia Plath, from “Apprehensions”
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Suffering, like a stone . . .
(around my neck,
deep inside me)
– Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary (translated by Richard Howard)
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Having found some daguerreotypes on the floor of an attic—portraits eroded by...
– Patrick Dubost, from “What I Know” (translated by Fiona Sampson)
I want to leave this place
unremembered.
– Fanny Howe, from “The Cenotaph” (via proustitute)
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I think it’s really important to go to your room and sit there. I couldn’t mean...
– Stephen Dunn (adapted from wwnorton)
I seek a safe place
For my mother’s scent
And I hide the rose in my blood.
...
– Hassan Najmi, “The War” (translated by Khaled Mattawa) (via sharingpoetry and weissewiese)
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…that this death fails to destroy me altogether means that I want to live...
– Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary (translated by Richard Howard)
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After this deluge
I wish to see the dove
saved,
nothing but the dove.
I...
– Ingeborg Bachmann, “After this Deluge” (translated by Johannes Beilharz)
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In the hollow of my mute being
place a word—
grow forests thick on...
– Ingeborg Bachmann, from “Psalm” (translated by Mark Anderson)
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if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not...
– Samuel Beckett, from “Cascando” (adapted from sharingpoetry)
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Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.
– Anne Carson, from “Tag” (adapted from semperaugustus)
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And only briefly then
you touch, you see, you press against
the surface of...
– Dana Gioia, from “Do Not Expect“
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Food, fire, walks, dreams, cold, sleep, love, slowness, time, quiet, books,...
– Jeanette Winterson, from Why I adore the night (via mirroir)
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I have no need for words.
The sleet on the windows,
the slow breathing of you...
– Patricia Kennedy Bostian, from “Sunday Afternoon”
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When it comes, you’ll be dreaming
that you don’t need to breathe;
that...
– Wislawa Szymborska, from “I’m Working on the World” in Poems New and Collected, trans. S. Baranczak and C. Cavanagh (via proustitute)
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I apologize to everything that I cannot be everywhere.
I apologize to everyone...
– Wisława Szymborska, from “Under a Certain Little Star” (trans. by Magnus J. Krynski and Robert A. Maguire)