By Magda Portal
Translated By Kathleen Weaver
I'm a sea since I could never have been a river
An unchanneled sea
of green merriments
and solitary depths…
An unchanneled sea
of green merriments
and solitary depths…
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- By Mei-mei Berssenbrugge1 Plants and rocks lay under night sky; ground is a subject of sky; the relation's a force.
I combine… - By Dorothy ParkerUnto seventy years and seven,
Hide your double birthright well—
You, that are the brat of Heaven
And … - By Countee CullenWhat if you come
Again and swell
The throat of some
Mute bird;
How shall I tell?
How shall I know.
That it is so,
Having heard? - By Sri ChinmoyThere was a time when I loved
The fantastic fabrics of the mind.
There was a time
When I lived my life
Based… - Translated By Daniel OwenDesember adalah penggaris yang lurus, lurus sekali,
dan putus dalam kelurusannya. Putus yang
tersembunyi dalam patahannya sendiri, putus yang
melihat kesunyian dari patahannya sendiri.
Dan angin, dan yang mengerang di bawah penggaris,
dan berkata, dan besok—Januari—Januari—akan
datang melalui jalur yang lalu. Jalur dengan bau
rempah-rempah, gula, kopi,... - Translated By Daniel OwenDecember is a straight ruler, very straight,
and broken in its straightness. A break
hidden in its fracture, a break that
sees silence from its fracture.
And wind, and what groans below a ruler,
and speaking, and tomorrow—January—January—will
come along a past path. A path that... - By H.D.Or is it a great tide that covers the rock-pool
so that it and the rock are indistinguishable
from the… - By H.D.O, do not bring snow-water
but fresh snow;
I would be bathed with stars,
new fallen from heaven,
one with… - By Meredith StrickerI was thinking of some of the messages Rilke will never receive: — dentist called abt your appt tomorrow…
- By Meredith Strickerin the DMZ ravines north of the Kaesong wastes edging
south of the perfect ruler’s pink and prisoned paradisethere is a climate paying no attention to us where cranes
repopulate serpentine deltas - By Camille T. DungyAsk me if I speak for the snail and I will tell you
I speak for the snail.
speak of underneathedness
and the welcome of mosses,
of life that springs up,
little lives that pull back and wait for a moment. - By Emily DickinsonWe should not mind so small a flower
Except it quiet bring
Our little garden that we lost
Back to the … - By Emily DickinsonI'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you - Nobody - too?
Then there's a pair of us!
Dont tell! they'd banish… - By Irina RatushinskayaI know it won't be received
Or sent. The page will be
In shreds as soon as I have scribbled it.
Later. … - By Thomas Warton the youngerBeneath yon ruin'd abbey's moss-grown pilesOft let me sit, at twilight hour of eve,Where thro' some …
- By Zach CzaiaOpen your mouth. Your tongue,
put it out. Let it wait.
Let it wait till it is
dry and cool. Let it wait… - By Adrian Matejkabecause of want & tumble?
Because of word crumbles in the kitchen’s halogen?
No. Separate bedrooms for… - By Ellen BassWhat if you knew you'd be the last
to touch someone?
If you were taking tickets, for example,
at the theater… - By J. Mae BarizoMorning in the city and the performance
that is Madison Avenue wearing diamond
studs for breakfast, my…