seen from Singapore
seen from Brazil
seen from Italy
seen from Martinique
seen from El Salvador
seen from Ireland
seen from Indonesia
seen from Sweden
seen from Sweden
seen from United States
seen from Sweden
seen from China
seen from Austria
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
For generations they lived like this. Wanting badly to save us—not knowing how. & all the while we found love in unlikely places: In the ravaged church of our bodies & our faces, refracted in their long faces.
From Mules by Jane Springer
it is not, so much, your image I miss. But neither the farmer nor his wife nor you, Blackbird, came to restore me. So come, hail & damnation. Come, anyone. Come, wind. When the crows descended, I welcomed them.
Jane Springer, ‘Dear Blackbird,’
How well you understand that fathoming the past is another miraculous way of lacing fingers with the sea.
Jane Springer, ‘Sleeping with the Excavator’
The first summer after you left rolled in as a white & fine-grained fog. The question became not: Where had you gone--but one of location, nevertheless, behind what curtain
Jane Springer, ‘Dear Blackbird,’
Which is something Ovid understood: How wheat rising from a field may, in a single day, take on the form of brothers who love—& yet by dusk, turn their swords on each other. Or how by the deception of dreams one kingdom falls & all the time in the world is lost—
Jane Springer, ‘Dear Blackbird,’
Night has its own reality, apart from day. Which is why poetry is the science of dusks & dawns.
Jane Springer, ‘Lamentations’
How well you understand there is no loss like looking back on the city you loved as even now you are leaving it. How well you understand that fathoming the past is another miraculous way of lacing fingers with the sea.
Jane Springer, ‘Sleeping with the Excavator’
There must be a thousand ways to remake the past, which is why poetry is the science of opposites.
Jane Springer, ‘Lamentations’
