Oh the poems

As always my life is busy. Absurd. Bizarre. But every day, in the small moments, are the poems I read that seem to be all I’ve really got. A line from Rilke last night: “the bathing huntress heard the forest stir”. Or Yeats this morning: “They had changed their throats and had the throats of birds.” And Ernst Stadler: “when I use words without really / having known their strict openness”…

One Response to “Oh the poems”

  1. Anne Says:

    oh this is tickling my memory. there is another great use of the word “strict” — I think it’s in Gilbert’s Great Fires that you’re rereading — it blew me away years ago and has been blowing around my memory ever since….

    YES. it is. from “The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart”:

    French has no word for home,
    and we have no word for strict pleasure.

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