By a mad miracle I go intact Among the common rout Thronging sidewalk, street, And bickering shops: Nobody blinks a lid, gapes, Or cries that this raw flesh Reeks of the butcher’s cleaver… -Sylvia Plath, from “Street Song” My heart breaks as I read this. My heart breaks for Sylvia Plath, for me, for anyone who has ever exiled their pain. This … Read More Coming Out of Exile
I know now that these conquerors, like many others before them, and no doubt like others after, gave the speeches not to voice the truth, but to create it. -Laila Lalami, “The Moor’s Account” While Laila Lalami’s beautifully written fictional memoir about a Moroccan slave explores the themes of racism and greed, what struck me when I read this sentence, was the power … Read More Beautiful Truths
I used to spend my nights out in a barroom Liquor was the only love I’ve known But you rescued me from reachin’ for the bottom And brought me back from being too far gone You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey You’re as sweet as strawberry wine You’re as warm as a glass of brandy And honey, I stay stoned on your love all … Read More Stoned on Love
Since he belonged, even at the age of six, to that great clan which cannot keep this feeling separate from that, but must let future prospects, with their joys and sorrow, cloud what is actually at hand, since to such people even in earliest childhood any turn in the wheel of sensation has the power to crystallize and transfix the moment upon which its … Read More Half-full
