melting & burning

November 29, 2013, 7:29 am
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“the role of a great writer – or editor, or “curator,” or any other custodian of cultural values – is to frame for people what matters in the world and why”

– Maria Popova



November 27, 2013, 1:52 pm
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I know more than I can express in words, and the little I can express would not have been expressed, had I not known more.

-Nabokov (in Strong Opinions)

last poem, Karl Kraus
August 31, 2013, 6:17 pm
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Don’t ask why all this time I never spoke.
Wordless am I,
and won’t say why.
And silence reigns because the bedrock broke.
No word redeems;
one only speaks in dreams.
A smiling sun the sleeper’s images evoke.
Time marches on;
the final difference is none.
The word expired when that world awoke.

Trans. Max Knight


Man frage nicht, was all die Zeit ich machte.
Ich bleibe stumm;
und sage nicht, warum.
Und Stille gibt es, da die Erde krachte.
Kein Wort, das traf;
man spricht nur aus dem Schlaf.
Und träumt von einer Sonne, welche lachte.
Es geht vorbei;
nachher war’s einerlei.
Das Wort entschlief, als jene Welt erwachte.

Iceberg – Rose Diamond
August 19, 2013, 5:52 pm
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I could draw poetry out of silence
with the patience of a fisherwoman
I have cut my circle in the ice
and wait.

I want to find the courage to dive deep
beyond conception
to hammer diamonds from the glassy wall
such hard at meaning
to make transparent the opaque.
I want to trace with burning fingers
the unique and perfect pattern
of each frost flower
to wear a skin so thin
my blood’s heat will melt
the edge of ice
and make the inert flow.

I want to write poetry with muscle
words that can’t be pummelled into submission
but swagger seeking across a page.
I want a new vocabulary for living
a grammar for contradictions
where mind and body rhyme
and my heart’s beat
sounds in the sea.