Category Archives: Poetry

Walcott “Ruins of a Great House”

though our longest sun sets at right declensions and makes but winter arches, it cannot be long before we lie down in darkness, and have our light in ashes. . . Browne, “Urn Burial” Stones only, the disjecta membra of… Continue reading

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Benjamin on Allegory

“Once the object has beneath the brooding look of Melancholy become allegorical, once life has flowed out of it, the object itself remains behind, dead, yet preserved for all eternity; it lies before the allegorist, given over to him utterly,… Continue reading

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Agamben on History, Memory and Forgetting

“Despite the efforts of historians, scribes, and all sorts of archivists, the quantity of what is irretrievably lost in the history of society and in the history of individuals in infinitely greater than what can be stored in the archives… Continue reading

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Anglo-Saxon metrical charm

Wen, wen, little wen, Here you shall not build, nor have your abode, But you shall go north to the hill nearby Where, benighted one, you have a brother. He shall lay a leaf at your head. Under the wolf’s… Continue reading

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Remember, Body by Cavafy

Body, remember not only how much you were loved, not only the beds on which you lay, but also those desires which for you plainly glowed in the eyes, and trembled in the voice — and some chance obstacle made… Continue reading

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Structures in Sand, by John Ashbery

They still connect(it still connects?)—the feeling of the middle of the eveningas it is overtakenby its sides.And then everything must be taken upand washed and put back together again.Why is that so?True happiness(which we can’t have, while we are close… Continue reading

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Lines, by Vallejo

Each ribbon of fire, that in search of Love, I cast and vibrate in lamentable roses, births me to the burial of my eve. I don’t know if the throbbing where I search will be the painting of rock, or… Continue reading

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What The Living Carry, by Morgan Ashcom

I am in need of music that would flow Over my fretful, feeling fingertips, Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips, With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow. Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low, Of some song sung to rest the… Continue reading

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From “The Far Field” by Theodore Roethke

I dream of journeys repeatedly: Of flying like a bat deep into a narrowing tunnel Of driving alone, without luggage, out a long peninsula, The road lined with snow-laden second growth, A fine dry snow ticking the windshield, Alternate snow… Continue reading

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Entropy, by Neil Rollinson

Your coffee grows cold on the kitchen table,which means the universe is dying.Your dress on the carpet is just a dress,it has lost all sense of you now.I open the window, the sky is darkand the house is also cooling,… Continue reading

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