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Untitled, Providence, Rhode Island, 1975-1978
by Francesca Woodman
Anne Sexton
I learned to build bookshelves and brought books to my room, gathering them around me thickly. I read by day and into the night. I thought about perfectibility, and deism, and adjectives, and clouds, and the foxes. I locked my door, from the inside, and leaped from the roof and went to the woods, by day or darkness.
Upstream: Selected Essays, ‘Staying Alive’ by Mary Oliver
I stood willingly and gladly in the characters of everything—other people, trees, clouds. And this is what I learned: that the world’s otherness is antidote to confusion, that standing within this otherness—the beauty and the mystery of the world, out in the fields or deep inside books—can re-dignify the worst-stung heart.
Upstream: Selected Essays, ‘Staying Alive’ by Mary Oliver
Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.
Upstream: Selected Essays, ‘Upstream’ by Mary Oliver
Do you think there is anything not attached by its unbreakable cord to everything else?
Upstream: Selected Essays, ‘Upstream’ by Mary Oliver
I will wake gently so as not to disturb the dreams that have alighted overnight on the branches of sleep, and before they flutter away on soundless wings, I will examine and admire each.
Woman Without Shame, ‘Having Recently Escaped from the Maws of a Deathly Life, I Am Ready to Begin the Year Anew’ by Sandra Cisneros
I write a poem for you. You write a love poem—for me? We send a hundred and three emails
Woman Without Shame, ‘Exploding Cigar of Love’ by Sandra Cisneros
The rose seller from Santa Julia Reads Neruda and dreams Of buying his mother a stove. It is the time of rain.
Woman Without Shame, ‘This in the News Unmentioned’ by Sandra Cisneros
And day by day I am a student of the morning sky. And night by night I memorize the sermon of the guru moon.
Woman Without Shame, ‘I Should Like to Fall in Love with a Burro Named Saturnino’ by Sandra Cisneros
somewhere within them ran a thin stream of quick, cool water, teeming with delicate lives, minnows and grasses and tiny white flowers, all tender and easily wounded and so vulnerable you couldn’t see them without aching for them.
A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara
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Margaret Atwood, You are Happy
Hope your first dream was a good one 🪡