poetry

poetry

If poets often commit suicide, it is not because their poems are bad but because they are good. Whoever heard of a bad poet committing suicide? The reader is only a little better off. The exhilaration of a good poem lasts twenty minutes, an hour at most.Unlike the scientist, the artist has reentry problems that are frequent and catastrophic.

If poets often commit suicide, it is not because their poems are bad but because they are good. Whoever heard of a bad poet committing suicide? The reader is only a little better off. The exhilaration of a good poem lasts twenty minutes, an hour at most.Unlike the scientist, the artist has reentry problems that are frequent and catastrophic.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,Are what ten thousand envy and adore:All, all look up, with reverential Awe,At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the Law:While Truth, Worth, Wisdom, daily they decry-`'Nothing is sacred now but Villainy'- Epilogue to the Satires, Dialogue I

The Wit of Cheats, the Courage of a Whore,Are what ten thousand envy and adore:All, all look up, with reverential Awe,At crimes that 'scape, or triumph o'er the Law:While Truth, Worth, Wisdom, daily they decry-`'Nothing is sacred now but Villainy'- Epilogue to the Satires, Dialogue I

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Well in case you failed to notice,In case you failed to see,This is my heart bleeding before you,This is me down on my kneesThese foolish games are tearing me apartYour thoughtless words are breaking my heartYou're breaking my heart

Well in case you failed to notice,In case you failed to see,This is my heart bleeding before you,This is me down on my kneesThese foolish games are tearing me apartYour thoughtless words are breaking my heartYou're breaking my heart

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.

Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

My tongue remembers your wounded flavor.The vein in my neckadores you. A swordstands up between my hips,my hidden fleece sends forth its scent of human oil.

My tongue remembers your wounded flavor.The vein in my neckadores you. A swordstands up between my hips,my hidden fleece sends forth its scent of human oil.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

A wealth you cannot imagineflows through you.Do not consider what strangers say.Be secluded in your secret heart-house,that bowl of silence.

A wealth you cannot imagineflows through you.Do not consider what strangers say.Be secluded in your secret heart-house,that bowl of silence.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.Let me keep company always with those who say "Look!" and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

from what we cannot hold the stars are made

from what we cannot hold the stars are made

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

Know that we have met before and that we will meet again. I will find my way to you in the next life, and every life after that.

Know that we have met before and that we will meet again. I will find my way to you in the next life, and every life after that.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

The horses suddenly began to neigh, protestingAgainst those who were drowning them in the ocean.The horses sank to the bottom, neighing, neighing.Until they had all gone down.That is all. Nevertheless, I pity them,Those bay horses, that never saw land again.

The horses suddenly began to neigh, protestingAgainst those who were drowning them in the ocean.The horses sank to the bottom, neighing, neighing.Until they had all gone down.That is all. Nevertheless, I pity them,Those bay horses, that never saw land again.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

I spit into the face of Time That has transfigured me.

I spit into the face of Time That has transfigured me.

Nov 24, 2024 - Fabian Biese>

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