Books

One afternoon she was drying on the rock, and she felt a thread of sunlight inside her chest. She had never believed in the existence of a soul except in abstract terms, yet she felt this, and she knew it was her soul. She wasn’t planning to do anything with it; she just liked knowing it was there. When she told me this story, I immediately began to picture myself with her, so I never used to like it when she told it to anyone else. Later, I realized no one else understands what the story’s about. Everyone seems to think it’s about religion, but what it really means is that she knows how to be alone.

From Things to Make and Break, by May-Lan Tan

"The science of existence was completely out there for me to explore. Me, a twenty-five year old female. There’s no mystery why poetry is so elaborately practiced by the young. The material of poems is energy itself, not even language. Words come later."

-Eileen Myles, Inferno (a poet’s novel)

"Poetry is not evidence,
it is and it is not not not.
Somebody is lying
about the moon disappearing."

-Melissa Broder, “Dark Poem”

"The sky looked like nothing, because that's what it is. It's not even a color. I looked back down at my phone and pulled up searches and feeds, hit refresh. I can cut off anyone on these lists, simple, but they'll always be there, sending out energy that I'll always in some way be receiving. I may as well know exactly what it is."

–from Surveys by Natasha Stagg

"I could speak to them all right, but at the point they stopped being strangers I always wished they'd be strangers again."

-Dorothy Baker, Cassandra at the Wedding