I could say nothing although I wanted desperately to take you in my arms.
Iris Murdoch, from a letter to Raymond Queneau wr. c. August 1952
Etikett: poetry
“We cannot wait / for angels. We’ll be our own gods now.”
— Nancy Reddy, from “Ex Machina,” Double Jinx: Poems (via lifeinpoetry)
“Hold me. I am a small handful.”
— Anne Sexton – from The Death Baby
Sometimes I dream that you are mine, all mine,
Julia de Burgos, from Song of the Simple Truth: Poems; “My Beloved,”
God, God, what do I do / after all this survival?
Traci Brimhall, from “Vive, Vive,” published in The Missouri Review
“I am not a princess and I am often ugly and I need very badly to be just me.”
—
Anne Sexton – from a letter to Alfred Sexton featured in A Self-Portrait in Letters
[She] has never seen the color of her eyes because mirrors terrify her.
Emily Paige Wilson, from “Hypochondria, Least Powerful of the Greek Gods (I),” published in Nightjar Review (via lifeinpoetry)
June, July, August.
Everything wrong, and nowhere to go.
Mary Oliver, from Devotions: The Selected Poems; “August,” (edited)
I was a girl gulping a woman’s grief.
Melissa Febos, from “Call My Name,” published in Prairie Schooner
“In Mexico people wear hummingbird amulets around their necks to show they are searching for love. Here people pretend they aren’t. Searching.”
— Francesca Lia Block, Missing Angel Juan
beberequin 