The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along.
– Rumi (tr.Coleman Barks)
Found things: words, art, photography, disappointment & hope
The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.
Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along.
– Rumi (tr.Coleman Barks)
Nights, I squat in the cornucopia
Of your left ear, Out of the wind,
Counting the red stars and those of plum-color.
The sun rises under the pillar of your tongue.
My hours are married to shadow.
No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel
On the blank stones of the landing.
– Sylvia Plath
Do you recognise anything? I said.
Anything familiar?
Yes, you said. The bed.
Better to watch the stream
that flows across the floor
and is made of sunlight,
the forest made of shadows;
better to watch the fireplace
which is now a beach.
– Margaret Atwood
This is my envoy to nothing
where I say Go, little poem –
not out into the world of strangers’ eyes,
but off to some airy limbo,
home to lost epics,
unremembered names,
and fugitive dreams
such as the one I had last night,
which like a fantastic city in pencil,
erased itself
in the bright morning air
just as I was waking up.
– Billy Collins