http://richardgilbert.me/2012/02/26/100-best-nonfiction-books/
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Tomaž Šalamun, Tess Gallagher, Wislawa Szymborska, Glanz-Leyeles, Jessica Hagedorn, Michael Benedikt, Abraham Sutskever
“Girl, your young loveliness is a white swan winging above me, casual in triumph.” – Glanz-Leyeles
“In every one of your wrinkles I lie hidden, I listened to you cough and shiver, but no one should hear you breathe- since here, in a corner, covered with earth, also lie my bones.” – Abraham Sutskever
“Like a thumb print on glass, you hover in daylight, marking the sky with a scar of midnight.” -Tess Gallagher
“Every ball is a bloody, beautiful mask of powerful people. We make up pretzels. I always did like chickens.” -Tomaž Šalamun
“The wheel is not only the most beautiful discovery of mankind but the only one as well/ there is the sun which turns/ there is the earth which turns/ there is your face which rolls back and forth around the axis of your neck when you weep” – Michael Benedikt
“Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.” -Wislawa Szymborska
“And this is for the wizard who swallows his tears like diamonds lost in the caves of his gentle throat. The music will consume your sadness if you keep singing.”- Jessica Hagedorn
“The first line of a poem
is a hawk not letting go of its prey
or a forest ablaze with lightning
on all its blind sides.” -Gabriel Preil
A little spit on the heart-mirror —
like my father, the gambler,
spitting into his palms
then rubbing them together
before he lets go
the dice. I am rolling
through stars
just thinking about it.
And my heart, rubbed clean
with maniac luck,
gets what it wanted
for once: this child’s moon
and three sentinel lovers.
I learnt tonight from a book on astronomy
that certain stars are the oldest
and near to extinction… Grateful for the news
I opened the window
and looked for the youngest star… But I could see
only clouds when someone’s mean laugh
(like the wind howling in a crematorium chimney)
drove me to find
a star in interstellar space
as dawn was breaking…
O my love, how shall we love and not despair,
how be desperate and wise at the same time?
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: James Tate, Poem to Some of My Recent Poems
I’ve been meaning to tell
you how the sky is pink
here sometimes like the roof
of a mouth that’s about to chomp
down on the crooked steel teeth
of the city,
I remember the desperate
things we did
and that I stumble
down sidewalks listening
to the buzz of street lamps
at dusk and the crush
of leaves on the pavement,
Without you here I’m viciously lonely
and I can’t remember
the last time I felt holy,
the last time I offered
myself as sanctuary
*
I watched two men
press hard into
each other, their bodies
caught in the club’s
bass drum swell,
and I couldn’t remember
when I knew I’d never
be beautiful, but it must
have been quick
and subtle, the way
the holy ghost can pass
in and out of a room.
I want so desperately
to be finished with desire,
the rushing wind, the still
small voice.
