He was trying to fit this Herakles onto the one he knew.
Because my theory is, there's no such thing as life,it's just catastrophe.
A paste of blue cloud untangled itself on the red sky over the harbour.
Winter noon is on the rise. Weak suns yet aliveare as virtue to suns of that other day.For the poor town dreamsof surrender, mothernever untender,
Unsociable even at homeand unable to meet the eyes of strangers when she ventured out,Emily made her awkward way across days and years whose bareness appalls her biographers.
Three old women were bending in the fields. What use is it to question us? they said. Well it shortly became clear that they knew everything there is to know about the snowy fields and the blue green...
Three days(so I hear)she is without food,keeps her body pure of bread, longs torun herself aground in a sad secret death.Is it a god inside you, girl?
There is something you should know.And the right way to know itis by a cherrying of your mind.
There is also a fable told by Phaedrus, about how Simonides was once a victim of shipwreck. As the other passengers scurried about the sinking ship trying to save their possessions, the poet stood idl...
There is a loneliness that fills the plain.Total.Lunar.
Perhaps the hardest thing about losing a lover isto watch the year repeat its days.
It is the task of a lifetime. You can never know enough, never work enough, never use the infinitives and participles oddly enough, never impede the movement harshly enough, never leave the mind quick...
Ascent of the rapist up the stairs seems as slow as lava. She listens to the black space where his consciousness is, moving towards her.
She ran from lamppost to lamppost, the wind slammed.Trotsky reviewed her in and an unofficial Communist Party resolution banned her poetry (1925).She didn't notice, didn't know what a Communist Party...
So muchhuman cruelty is simplyincidental is simplybrainless. Simply nocommon sense. You couldtake the entirety of thecommon sense of humansand put it in the palm ofyour hand and still haveroom for you...
And the reason he cannot bear her dying is not the loss of her (which is the future) but that dying puts the two of them (now) into this nakedness together that is unforgivable.
That night we made love "the real way" which we had not yet attemptedalthough married six months.Big mystery. No one knew where to put their leg and to this day I'm not surewe got it right.He seemed h...
Perhaps you know that Ingeborg Bachmann poemfrom the last years of her life that beginsI lose my screamsdear Antigone,I take it as the task of the translatorto forbid that you should ever lose your sc...
Where does unbelief begin? / When I was young // there were degrees of certainty. / I could say, Yes I know that I have two hands. / Then one day I awakened on a planet of people whose hands / occasio...
There is a theory that watching unbearable stories about other people lost in grief and rage is good for you—may cleanse you of your darkness. Do you want to go down to the pits of yourself all alone?...