between the trees

November 24, 2019

Her heart was a dark forest and her soul all the wild things dwelling between the trees…

so magical

October 15, 2019

There are some people so magical, that no matter how far away they are, you can feel their breathing in your soul.

secret colours

September 1, 2019

Draw me with your fingertips, lover, face and body too. Here, on my lips paint the colour of love. Without mercy, sketch me, revise me just for you, painting, of course, the secret colours hidden inside my heart. And with those same fingertips enclose and trap my soul –

keep everything

August 31, 2019

I possess pieces of you. I keep them under my skin against my soul. With other lovers, there was nothing, an emptiness. But from you I keep everything. Always I keep everything.

P

Soul light

August 26, 2019

Dark as it is – you see,
that little flickering,
is the light of my soul.

Else Lasker-Schüler
To the Golden Knight
My Blue Piano
Trans. Brooks Haxton

Dark things

August 23, 2019

We love certain dark things
Secretly
In silence
Between the shadows and our souls –

Naked

August 11, 2019

let’s go to a land,
where we can be naked,
where we do not,
have to wear any layers,
underneath our pure soul

we will be so open,
that there won’t be,
anything to hide,
from each other,

we will feel light,
as for all these years,
we have been suffocating,
ourselves with heavy clothes

now is the time,
or it will be never,
to be as open,
as transparent,
as water tonight…

Poettiger41

Lips touching lips

August 10, 2019

A single kiss can bruise your soul –

no one knows the way

July 13, 2019

I have sometimes thought that a woman’s nature is like a great house full of rooms: there is the hall, through which everyone passes in going in and out; the drawingroom, where one receives formal visits; the sitting-room, where the members of the family come and go as they list; but beyond that, far beyond, are other rooms, the handles of whose doors perhaps are never turned; no one knows the way to them, no one knows whither they lead; and in the innermost room, the holy of holies, the soul sits alone and waits…

Edith Wharton
The Fullness of Life

Poetry is the lonely, radical, precious expression of a single life. The singularity of the unique human soul who must cry out. Because of love, because of wounds, because of injustice, because of hunger, because of exile and migration, because of dispossession of every kind, because we have lost someone we love and cannot bear that loss, because night comes on and we are alone.

Anne Michaels
Infinite Gradation