#beth bachmann

[guardseden]

Do Not Rise, Wild / Beth Bachmann Beth Bachmann on “wild”

[cor-ardens-archive]

beth bachmann

[soracities]

How to track an animal? /  It takes one to know one.

Beth Bachmann, from ‘Oasis’, published in Guernica

[autochromeplates]

my past is a grave reflected in mirrored sunglasses

Beth Bachmann / International Rose Test Garden

[lifeinpoetry]

I wish I could tell you, sun, when you are lonely or in darkness, you are not a shadow: Everything you touch turns to shadow.

Beth Bachmann, from “Afterwinds, while inside the head of the cloud,” published in VQR

[dk-thrive]

I flick a feather into the water. No stones.

No shepherds. No nymphs. Maybe just one: the girl the fawn strips like a fisherman’s rose. Death turns its mouth red. It can no longer lie in the lilies. Not on my watch. The lake is filthy with silver fish sticky with leeches. Lovesick, I flick a feather into the water. No stones. Only the one in my pocket, heavy as a tongue.

— Beth Bachmann, “Elegy,”American Poetry Review, 37:2

[soracities]

We want what a god wants: to own it, all.

Beth Bachmann, from ‘Oasis’, published in Guernica

[lifeinpoetry]

Forget what you’ve been told. Love is not immutable.

See this handful of birds I release on the church steps? I do this to remind you.

— Beth Bachmann, from “Luminous Mystery,” Temper