dig

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“Here (only here) is freedom: always here
[…]
(eternity being so sans until
twice i have lived forever in a smile)

“unlove’s the heavenless hell…” By E. E. Cummings

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Humanity i love you

because you would rather black the boots of

success than enquire whose soul dangles from his

watch-chain which would be embarrassing for both

parties and because you

unflinchingly applaud all

songs containing the words country home and

mother when sung at the old howard

Humanity i love you because

when you’re hard up you pawn your

intelligence to buy a drink and when

you’re flush pride keeps

you from the pawn shop and

because you are continually committing

nuisances but more

especially in your own house

Humanity i love you because you

are perpetually putting the secret of

life in your pants and forgetting

it’s there and sitting down

on it

and because you are

forever making poems in the lap

of death Humanity

i hate you

–E. E. Cummings

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Yes, I move, I live, I wander astray—
[…]
I know the passionate pleasure of motion;
   I taste the forests; I touch strange lands.

Running Water, Alfonsina Storni, translated by Muna Lee

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“When you’re small, … you survive by being patient, and clever.”

Ann Leckie, The Long Game (The Far Reaches collection)

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“…walks
aimlessly, happy just to be alive”

McHugh, Lines.

“The kin of charity is whore,
the root of charity is dear.”

McHugh, Etymological Dirge

More of Heather McHugh, with audio. “… poetry is was he thought but did not say” (What he thought)

“Slowly I would get to pen and paper,

Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.

In the day I would be reminded of those men and women,

Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,

Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.

[…]

We would try to imagine them, try to find each other,

To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile

Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,

Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means

To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,

To let go the means, to wake.

Muriel Rukeyser, Poem (I lived in the first century of world wars)

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Luna Palazzolo-Daboul, forever writing poems in the lap of death

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“… is everywhere

forming invisible haloes around everything”

Alicia Ostriker.

“… shine as it will, The world will love its darkness still.”

Richard Crashaw