Friday, June 7, 2013

A Writer's Ruminations

A thinking woman sleeps with monsters. — Adrienne Rich, from “Snapshots of a...

A thinking woman sleeps with monsters.

— Adrienne Rich, from “Snapshots of a Daughter-in-Law”

I wanted to choose words that even you would have to be changed by — Adrienne Rich, from...

I wanted to choose words that even you
would have to be changed by

— Adrienne Rich, from “Implosions

When I know what people think of me I am plunged into my loneliness. The grey hat bought earlier...

When I know what people think of me
I am plunged into my loneliness. The grey

hat bought earlier sickens.
I have no purpose no longer distinguishable.

A feeling like being choked
enters my throat.

— Robert Creeley, “The End

When you go, space closes over like water behind you, Do not look back: there is nothing outside...

When you go, space closes over like water behind you,
Do not look back: there is nothing outside you,
Space is only time visible in a different way,
Places we love we can never leave.

— Ivan V. Lalic, from “Places We Love” (translated by Francis R. Jones)

Sylvia Plath on her first day at Mademoiselle, 1953



Sylvia Plath on her first day at Mademoiselle, 1953

Gone, I say and walk from church, refusing the stiff procession to the grave, letting the dead ride...

Gone, I say and walk from church,
refusing the stiff procession to the grave,
letting the dead ride alone in the hearse.
It is June. I am tired of being brave.

— Anne Sexton, from “The Truth the Dead Know

Accept what comes from silence.   Make the best you can of it.   Of the little words that come   out...

Accept what comes from silence.   
Make the best you can of it.   
Of the little words that come   
out of the silence, like prayers   
prayed back to the one who prays,   
make a poem that does not disturb   
the silence from which it came.

—Wendell Berry, from “How To Be a Poet

Concerning the death of Gertrude Stein: she came out of a deep coma to ask her companion Alice...

Concerning the death of Gertrude Stein: she came out of a deep coma to ask her companion Alice Toklas, “Alice, Alice, what is the answer?” Her companion replied, “There is no answer.” Gertrude Stein continued, “Well, then, what is the question?” and fell back dead.

—Susan Sontag, from Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

I embrace my solitude as a beautiful gift; I will become beautiful through it! —Susan Sontag,...

I embrace my solitude as a beautiful gift; I will become beautiful through it!

—Susan Sontag, from Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

My night awakestaring at the broad rough jewelthe copper roof across the waythinking of the poetyet...

My night awake
staring at the broad rough jewel
the copper roof across the way
thinking of the poet
yet unborn in this dark
who will be the throat of these hours.
No.        Of those hours.
Who will speak these days,
if not I,
if not you?

—Muriel Rukeyser, from “The Speed of Darkness

The river flows past the city. Water goes down to tomorrowmaking its children        I hear their...

The river flows past the city.

Water goes down to tomorrow
making its children        I hear their unborn voices
I am working out the vocabulary of my silence.

Muriel Rukeyser, from “The Speed of Darkness

There is a melody born of melody,Which melts the world into a sea —Ralph Waldo Emerson,...

There is a melody born of melody,
Which melts the world into a sea

—Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Fate

“I’m completely engrossed, at this moment, in one of the most beautiful musical works...

“I’m completely engrossed, at this moment, in one of the most beautiful musical works I’ve ever heard—the Vivaldi B Minor…concerto on Cetra-Soria with Mario Salerno—

“Music is at once the most wonderful, the most alive of all the arts—it is the most abstract, the most perfect, the most pure—and the most sensual. I listen with my body and it is my body that aches in response to the passion and pathos embodied in this music. It is the physical “I” that feels an unbearable pain—and then a dull fretfulness—when the whole world of melody suddenly glistens and comes cascading down in the second part of the first movement—it is flesh and bone that dies a little each time I am sucked into the yearning of the second movement—”

—Susan Sontag, 25 December 1948, from Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963

"Words bother me. I think it is why I am a poet. I keep trying to force myself to speak of the...

"Words bother me. I think it is why I am a poet. I keep trying to force myself to speak of the things that remain mute inside. My poems only come when I have almost lost the ability to utter a word. To speak, in a way, of the unspeakable. To make an object out of the chaos…To say what? A final cry into the void."

— Anne Sexton, from a letter to Dennis Farrell, August 2, 1963 

James Taylor - Fire and Rain Seven years ago today, on May 29th,...



James Taylor - Fire and Rain

Seven years ago today, on May 29th, 2006, my father died. It was the most devastating moment of my life. I was sixteen years old and didn't know how I would live without the man I had always adored. He was my best friend,  offering compassion, support, and understanding when I needed it. I do not just miss him, I ache for him.
His greatest passion was music, and his favorite singer was James Taylor. So I am sharing this song as a tribute to my father. When I listen to it, I will think not of his death but of his life. I will remember the love he gave and the beautiful person he was.
I am heartbroken today, but I will survive. I will read poetry and write and hold on to the people I love. I hurt for all of us who have lost fathers and mothers and friends and lovers and mentors. All I can do is share my story and, in the process, try to connect with others and make them feel less alone. 
Thank you.

Draft of "Sheep in Fog" by Sylvia Plath



Draft of "Sheep in Fog" by Sylvia Plath

"She had the febrile gaiety of a being without a past, without a present, yet she existed thus,..."

"She had the febrile gaiety of a being without a past, without a present, yet she existed thus, without memory or history, only because her past was too bleak to think of and her future too terrible to contemplate; she was the broken blossom of the present tense."

- Angela Carter, Nights at the Circus

entregulistanybostan: Annemarie Schwarzenbach por Marianne...



entregulistanybostan:

Annemarie Schwarzenbach por Marianne Breslauer.

Fuente, nota y más fotos

"What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs..."

"What is it in us that lives in the past and longs for the future, or lives in the future and longs for the past? And what does it matter when light enters the room where a child sleeps and the waking mother, opening her eyes, wishes more than anything to be unwakened by what she cannot name?"

- Mark Strand, from "No Words Can Describe It"

losed: Nabokov and his Butterflies





losed:

Nabokov and his Butterflies

No comments:

Post a Comment