—Come and help me. I am disappearing.
Gunnar Ekelöf, tr. by Robert Bly, from “Monologue With His Wife,”
Etikett: poetry
I will not exist without your love and loveliness, darling,
Dylan Thomas, from a letter to Caitlin Thomas wr. c. September 1940
My angel, keep inside you, your heart’s garden. Keep it distinct and holy.
Zeb-un-Nissa, tr. by Paul Smith, from “Makhfi: A Selection of Poems,”
I wandered in a lonely place; my soul’s great thirst tormented me –
Alexander Pushkin, tr. by Anthony Wood, from “The Prophet,”
I am undergoing changes of heart and soul, so I’m trying to find new ways of writing that suit the changed organs.
Kurt Vonnegut, from a letter to Rust Hills written c. September 1965
I’m a double of myself, one half a doll that was spared, one half dead.
Mary Jo Bang, from A Doll for Throwing: Poems; “Of Mannequins and Building Exteriors,”
Her eyes are like velvet, the way only dark eyes can be, hers now are a mixture of still water and silt, revealing nothing at present except a kind of drowsy sweetness.
Marguerite Duras, from “The Ravishing of Lol Stein,” published c. 1964
““Miss no single opportunity of making some small sacrifice, here by a smiling look, there by a kindly word; always doing the smallest right and doing it all for love.””
— St. Therese of Lisieux
Where can I go so that / I won’t find my destruction?
Miguel Hernández, tr. by Robert Bly, from “The Knife that Eats Flesh,”
“…and my heart bled.”
— H.D., from The Collected Poems: 1912-1944; “For Bryher and Perdita,”
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