~ Margaret Atwood, from "Variation on the World Sleep"
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"Summer is growing old and everything is flowing into a single melancholy murmur"
~ Tomas Tranströmer, from "The Cuckoo"
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But it’s mine, this poem of the night, and I just stood there, listening and holding out my hands to the soft glitter falling through the air.
Mary Oliver, from Snowy Night
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fatima aamer bilal, from even flesh eaters don’t want me.
[text id: i want to embrace you so closely that our bodies would become one.]
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And yet, as they say,
the heart is a leaf
and the wind makes it throb.
Pablo Neruda, Then Come Back: The Lost Neruda Poems (Translated by Forrest Gander)
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Benaim, Sabrina. "(i)." Depression & Other Magic Tricks.
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- Pablo Neruda, from Sonnet XVII
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"And even now in the gathering dark of a late afternoon in December, of one more year stretching between us, I think of you. I remember."
~ Tom Hansen, from "December Monologue"
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I let it down into the dark pond, into the cool water, and the light of the lilies, to live.
Mary Oliver, from “Turtle” in House of Light written c. 1990
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fatima aamer bilal, except from sink your teeth, puncture my heart.
[text id: it was inevitable. // you could have marched towards me, parading your teeth like hands, tearing all the meaningless flesh apart, turning my ribs inside, and taking a bite out of my heart—// and i would have done nothing, not when i couldn’t look past your eyes. // so warm. even the sun yearns to bask in them. // sick. sick. sick. how i would have waited for you to take another bite. then another. another. devour me whole. all hunger is, is love.]
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