January 2010
48 posts
Implosions
The world’s not wanton only wild and wavering I wanted to choose words that even you would have to be changed by Take the word of my pulse, loving and ordinary Send out your signals, hoist your dark scribbled flags but take my hand All wars are useless to the dead My hands are knotted in the rope and I cannot sound the bell My hands are frozen to the switch and I cannot throw it...
IX Your silence today is a pond where drowned things live I want to see raised dripping and brought into the sun. It’s not my own face I see there, but other faces, even your face at another age. Whatever’s lost there is needed by both of us - a watch of old gold, a water-blurred fever chart, a key…Even the silt and pebbles of the bottom deserve...
Gratitude
Do not think I am not grateful for your small kindness to me. I like small kindnesses. In fact I actually prefer them to the more substantial kindness, that is always eying you like a large animal on a rug, until your whole life reduces to nothing but waking up morning after morning cramped, and the bright sun shining on its tusks.
-Louise Glück
