When you are alone - at sea, in the polar dark - an absence can keep you alive. The one you love maintains your mind. But when she's merely across the city, this is an absence that eats you to the bon...
Some stones are so heavy only silence helps you carry them!
The truth doesn't care what we think of it.
The dead leave us starving with mouths full of love.
Now we’re like planets, holding to each other from a great distance. [...] Now we’re hundreds of miles apart, our short arms keep us lonely, no one hears what’s in my head. [...] It’s March, even the...
Our bodies surround what has always been there
I'm naive enough to think that love is always good no matter how long ago, no matter the circumstances.
The dead lose every sense except hearing.
Like other ghosts, she whispers; not for me to join her, but so that, when I'm close enough, she can push me back into the world.
I can only find youby looking deeper, that's how loveleads us into the world.
History is amoral: events occurred. But memory is moral; what we consciously remember is what our conscience remembers. History is the Totenbuch, The Book of the Dead, kept by the administrators of th...
There was no energy of a narrative in my family, not even the fervour of an elegy.
The shadow-past is shaped by everything that never happened. Invisible, it melts the present like rain through karst. A biography of longing. It steers us like magnetism, a spirit torque. This is how...
That they were torn from mistakes they had no chance to fix; everything unfinished. All the sins of love without detail, detail without love. The regret of having spoken, of having run out of time to...
Reading a poem in translation is like kissing a woman through a veil.
Love makes you see a place differently, just as you hold differently an object that belongs to someone you love.
Find a way to make beauty necessary; find a way to make necessity beautiful.
But sometimes the world disrobes, slips its dress off a shoulder, stops time for a beat. If we look up at that moment, it's not due to any ability of ours to pierce the darkness, it's the world's brie...
Because the moon feels loved, she lets our eyesfollow her across the field, steppingfrom her clothes, strewn silkglinting in furrows. Feeling loved, the moon lovesto be looked at, swimmingall night ac...
At night, a few lights marked port and starboard of these gargantuan industrial forms, and I filled them with loneliness. I listened to these dark shapes as if they were black spaces in music, a music...