These fragments I have shored against my ruins. -T.S. Eliot

These fragments I have shored against my ruins.  -T.S. Eliot
Showing posts with label Mary Oliver. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mary Oliver. Show all posts

Sunday, February 2, 2020

The cities are falling asleep, each in its house






















(In my sleep I dreamed this poem)
Someone I loved once gave me
a box of darkness.
It took me years to understand
that this, too, was a gift.
-Mary Oliver


Image: Dmitry Anisimov 
Title:
Czeslaw Milosz, from The Separate Notebooks

Thursday, September 6, 2018

Caterpillar edging to moth






















I mean, by such flightiness, something that feels unsatisfied at the center of my life – that makes me shaky, fickle, inquisitive, and hungry.  I could call it a longing for home and not be far wrong.  Or I could call it a longing for whatever supersedes, if it cannot pass through, understanding…In my outward appearance and life habits I hardly change … But at the center: I am shaking; I am flashing like tinsel.
— Mary Oliver, Long Life

Image: Chad Wys
Title: Barbara Guest, excerpt from “Passage"

Monday, May 25, 2015

Or I could call it a longing





















 Cianalas: homesickness, longing, loneliness, melancholy

A’ dol dhachaigh: going home(wards)

Image: Found
Title: Mary Oliver

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Her pockets full of lichens and seeds
























   Soul is the place,
stretched like a surface of millstone grit between
body and mind,
where such necessity grinds itself out
-Anne Carson, excerpt from “The Glass Essay”

Image: John B. Greene, Statue fragments
 
 
Title: Mary Oliver, from "Sleeping in the Forest"