Hail

September 27, 2018

Mary who mattered to me, gone or asleep
among fruits, spilled

in ash, in dust, I did not

leave you. Even now I can’t keep from
composing you, limbs & blue cloak

& soft hands. I sleep to the sound

of your name, I say there is no Mary
except the word Mary, no trace

on the dust of my pillowslip. I only

dream of your ankles brushed by dark violets,
of honeybees above you

murmuring into a crown. Antique queen,

the night dreams on: here are the pears
I have washed for you, here the heavy-winged doves,

asleep by the hyacinths. Here I am,

having bathed carefully in the syllables
of your name, in the air and the sea of them, the sharp scent

of their sea foam. What is the matter with me?

Mary, what word, what dust
can I look behind? I carried you a long way

into my mirror, believing you would carry me

back out. Mary, I am still
for you, I am still a numbness for you.

Mary Szybist

things that disturb me

September 27, 2018

I write about the things that trouble me. I write about the things that disturb me, the things that won’t let me alone, the things that are eating slowly into my brain at 3 in the morning, the things that unbalance my world. Sometimes these are things I’ve said or done; sometimes they’re things I’ve heard about or seen. Sometimes they’re only sentences, sometimes scenes, sometimes complete narratives. I carry these things around inside my head until I’m compelled to write them down to get rid of them. I sit down and begin.

Roxana Robinson
If you invent the story, you’re the first to see how it ends

a world of strange beings

September 27, 2018

I feel as though I were living in a world of strange beings — do you? It’s people that make things so — silly. As long as you can keep away from them you’re safe and you’re happy.

Katherine Mansfield
Something childish but very natural

softly blurred

September 27, 2018

I love the rain. I love how it softens the outlines of things. The world becomes softly blurred, and I feel like I melt right into it.

Hanamoto Hagumi
Honey and Clover

lost vocabularies

September 27, 2018

I dream of lost vocabularies that might express some of what we no longer can.

Jack Gilbert
The Great Fires