Black SeaOne clear night while the others slept, I climbed ( Read more... )

The New YearIt is winter and the new year ( Read more... )

She stood beside me for years, or was it a moment? I cannot
remember. Maybe I loved her, maybe I didn’t. There was a
house, and then no house. There were trees, but none remain.
When no one remembers, what is there? You, whose moments
are gone, who drift like smoke in the afterlife, tell me some-
thing, tell me anything.

The empty heart comes home from a busy day at the office ( Read more... )

Black SeaOne clear night while the others slept, I climbed ( Read more... )

BY SMALL AND SMALL: MIDNIGHT TO FOUR A.M.by Jack Gilbert

For eleven years I have regretted it ( Read more... )

Lines for Winter
Mark Strand (1934-2014)
(for Ros Krauss)

Tell yourself
as it gets cold and gray falls from the air
that you will go on
walking, hearing
the same tune no matter where
you find yourself-
inside the dome of dark
or under the cracking white
of the moon’s gaze in a valley of snow.
Tonight as it gets cold
tell yourself
what you know which ( Read more... )

When you see them ( Read more... )

i've done this before, but i'm returning to you with another very specific request...does anyone have the poem "scarification," by james hoch on hand? i can't seem to find it anywhere on the internet ( Read more... )

The Minister of Culture goes home after a grueling day at the office. He lies on his bed and tries to think of nothing, but nothing hap-pens or, more precisely, does not happen. Nothing is elsewhere doing what nothing does, which is to expand the dark. But the minister is patient, and slowly things slip away-the walls of his house, the park across ( Read more... )