#louis gluck

[amicus-noctis]

“We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory.” ― Louise Gluck

Photo: from Andrei Tarkovskys "The Mirror" (1975)

[jessicainlecto]

Part VI: 15 Favourite Poems

The Peace of Wild Things, by Wendell Berry

2. The Song of the Happy Shepherd, by W.B. Yeats

3. Song, by Allen Ginsberg

4. A Dead Statesman, by Rudyard Kipling

5. Peonies, by Mary Oliver

6. A letter in October, by Ted Kooser

7. Prayer, by Ellen Bass

8. Church, by James Crews

9. She Tells Her Love While Half-Asleep, by Robert Graves

10. Kinder Than Man, by Althea Davis

11. Those Winter Sundays, by Robert Hayden

12. Maggie Smith Said We Could Make This Place Beautiful, by Lyndsay Rush

13. Wondrous, by Sarah Freligh

14. Departure, by Louise Gluck

15. Like a City, by Jehane Markham

See also Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V

[regalmachines]

anne neville x richard of york

sophocles, anne carson / epithalamium, louis gluck / quote, anaïs nin / perfectionist, irene rue

[orchard-bliss]

Louis Glück, Brennende Liebe-1904

[letsbeapoemtogether]

Intense love always leads to mourning.

Louise Gluck, The Triumph of Achilles

[trailofleaves]

Night covers the pond with its wing. Under the ringed moon I can make out your face swimming among minnows and the small echoing stars. In the night air the surface of the pond is metal.

Within, your eyes are open. They contain a memory I recognize, as though we had been children together. Our ponies grazed on the hill, they were gray with white markings. Now they graze with the dead who wait like children under their granite breastplates, lucid and helpless:

The hills are far away. They rise up blacker than childhood. What do you think of, lying so quietly by the water? When you look that way I want to touch you, but do not, seeing as in another life we were of the same blood.

— The Pond, Louise Gluck

[speakyetpause]

Snowdrops

— Louise Glück

Do you know what I was, how I lived?  You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you.

I did not expect to survive, earth suppressing me. I didn't expect to waken again, to feel in damp earth my body able to respond again, remembering after so long how to open again in the cold light of earliest spring--

afraid, yes, but among you again crying yes risk joy

in the raw wind of the new world.

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

Louise Glück ~ Crater Lake (from averno)