(no subject)
"it was only important
to see the angels swimming in the glitter
and dip my fingers in their flickering water
at the centre of that man-made desert
knowing that they were man-made, and might shatter."
-Reibetanz
"Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other's arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire."
-Piercy
"Your anthem plays to gunfire...
When you think about it (when you can breathe)-
After all the lies that frame nostalgia,
All the dead faces that occupy photographs,
All the slain lovers pitched into ditches,
Your eyes itch and ache with water, then dry--
Curling like dead leaves, starving for gold fire."
-Geogre Elliot Clarke
"Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice
as is your image in my eye; dry frost
glazes the window of my hurt; what solace
can be struck from rock to make hurt's waste
grow green again? Who'd walk in this bleak place?"
-Plath
“Even as my each mangled nerve-end
Trills its hurt out
Above the pitch of pedestrian ear,
So, perhaps I, knelled numb by your absence,
Alone can hear
Sun’s parched scream,
Every downfall and crash
Of gutted star,
And, more daft than any goose,
This cracked world’s incessant gabble and hiss.”
-Plath
"What she saw then engraved her mind
Plague-pitted as the moon: each bud
Shriveling to cinders at its source,
Each love blazing blind to its gutted end-
And, fixed in crystal center, grinning fierce:
Earth’s ever-green death’s head."
-Plath
“…can our dreams
ever blur the intransigent lines which draw
the shape that shuts us in? absolute fact
intrudes even when the revolted eye
is closed; the tub exists behind our back:
its glittering surfaces are blank and true.
Yet always the ridiculous nude flanks urge
the fabrication of some cloth to cover
such starkness; accuracy must not stalk at large:
each day demands we create our world over,
disguising the constant horror in a coat
of many-colored fictions; we mask our past
in the green of eden, pretend future’s shining fruit
can sprout from the navel of this present waste.
...in faith
we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail
among the sacred islands of the mad till death
shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.”
-Plath
"I want her to be
the pretty one walking down the street. I want her
to be Annabel Lee. I want her to be the lady in red.
I want her to be the blue eyes on Gatsby's wall..."
-Alexie
"in the darkness, her dark body grows darker
until I am making love to her and her shadow..."
-Alexie
"I'd lie out
and wait for the god if it weren't
so cold, the blue moon huge
and disruptive above the flowering crab's
foaming collapse..."
-Mark Doty
"How strange the stars have grown;
The presage of extinction glows on their crests
And they are beautied with impermanence;
They shall be after the race of men
And mourn for them who snared their fiery pinions,
Entangled in the meshes of bright words...
How often in the autumn of the world
Shall the crystal shrine of dawning be rebuilt
With deeper meaning!"
-Duncan Campbell Scott
to see the angels swimming in the glitter
and dip my fingers in their flickering water
at the centre of that man-made desert
knowing that they were man-made, and might shatter."
-Reibetanz
"Cobalt as the midnight sky
when day has gone without a trace
and we lie in each other's arms
eyes shut and fingers open
and all the colors of the world
pass through our bodies like strings of fire."
-Piercy
"Your anthem plays to gunfire...
When you think about it (when you can breathe)-
After all the lies that frame nostalgia,
All the dead faces that occupy photographs,
All the slain lovers pitched into ditches,
Your eyes itch and ache with water, then dry--
Curling like dead leaves, starving for gold fire."
-Geogre Elliot Clarke
"Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice
as is your image in my eye; dry frost
glazes the window of my hurt; what solace
can be struck from rock to make hurt's waste
grow green again? Who'd walk in this bleak place?"
-Plath
“Even as my each mangled nerve-end
Trills its hurt out
Above the pitch of pedestrian ear,
So, perhaps I, knelled numb by your absence,
Alone can hear
Sun’s parched scream,
Every downfall and crash
Of gutted star,
And, more daft than any goose,
This cracked world’s incessant gabble and hiss.”
-Plath
"What she saw then engraved her mind
Plague-pitted as the moon: each bud
Shriveling to cinders at its source,
Each love blazing blind to its gutted end-
And, fixed in crystal center, grinning fierce:
Earth’s ever-green death’s head."
-Plath
“…can our dreams
ever blur the intransigent lines which draw
the shape that shuts us in? absolute fact
intrudes even when the revolted eye
is closed; the tub exists behind our back:
its glittering surfaces are blank and true.
Yet always the ridiculous nude flanks urge
the fabrication of some cloth to cover
such starkness; accuracy must not stalk at large:
each day demands we create our world over,
disguising the constant horror in a coat
of many-colored fictions; we mask our past
in the green of eden, pretend future’s shining fruit
can sprout from the navel of this present waste.
...in faith
we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail
among the sacred islands of the mad till death
shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.”
-Plath
"I want her to be
the pretty one walking down the street. I want her
to be Annabel Lee. I want her to be the lady in red.
I want her to be the blue eyes on Gatsby's wall..."
-Alexie
"in the darkness, her dark body grows darker
until I am making love to her and her shadow..."
-Alexie
"I'd lie out
and wait for the god if it weren't
so cold, the blue moon huge
and disruptive above the flowering crab's
foaming collapse..."
-Mark Doty
"How strange the stars have grown;
The presage of extinction glows on their crests
And they are beautied with impermanence;
They shall be after the race of men
And mourn for them who snared their fiery pinions,
Entangled in the meshes of bright words...
How often in the autumn of the world
Shall the crystal shrine of dawning be rebuilt
With deeper meaning!"
-Duncan Campbell Scott