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1. Dinner with some friends and the conversation turned to art (oh god here we go). As usual, I kept my mouth shut, because, well, what do I know really? I just like standing in front of big windows and looking

1. What happened is, I sat on my desk yesterday and found that bits and pieces of my life were stolen. I know no other way to say it except that. It feels a lot like someone is stealing my life,

1. Let's try this again. 2. The truth is, I was confronted with the fact that the space I have created for myself is not invincible. It is a thing I had to digest for a while. I had thought myself under the

“I write for myself and strangers.” — Gertrude Stein

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This was the title of my column when I was in high school. Naturally my teacher expected me to have read Dante. Oh, I have a special circle in my mind just for you, I thought. I mean—nobody got it.

Was that too much? After years of letting people come and go and take what they need here, was yesterday too much? Do I have to keep my grief even to myself because there are strangers to witness it? Messy,

"the way a tree always shelters the unborn life / waiting for the healing / after the storm / which has been our life."

Discovered a new poem today: Private Pain in Time of Trouble Kathleen Spivack How can I sustain this troubled swelling: my heart like an eggplant, blackened, bulbous, grows too greedy: bruised and sorrowful, it will not let its great loss go, wanting to be pendulous with child. Private pain in

Desire, desire, desire. Thinking of you and listening to Suzanne Vega's Caramel. Reading this poem: Waiting Yevgeny Yevtushenko My love will come will fling open her arms and fold me in them, will understand my fears, observe my changes. In from the pouring dark, from the

Finally presented my photos. Friends took bids afterwards. So now I'm home with empty hands. A Man Said to the Universe Stephen Crane A man said to the universe: "Sir, I exist!" "However," replied the universe, "The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation."

Received this poem in the mail. Thank you. I May After Leaving You Walk Quickly or Even Run Matthea Harvey Rain fell in a post-romantic way. Heads in the planets, toes tucked under carpets, that’s how we got our bodies through. The translator made the sign for

I wonder what I was doing this time last year. Degrees of Gray In Phillipsburg Richard Hugo You might come here Sunday on a whim. Say your life broke down. The last good kiss you had was years

Someone was asking for poems, and when people answered I picked up this little gem. Shiver & You Have Weather Matthea Harvey In the aftermath of calculus your toast fell butter-side down. Squirrels swarmed the lawns in flight patterns. The hovercraft helped the waves along. From every corner

Woke up and smelled lavender. Is that you, Lolo? I suddenly remembered this poem, and oh, my heart. How I always find parts of my life tucked in poems, I'll never know. My Aunts Adam Zagajewski Translated by Clare Cavanagh Always caught up in

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