posts tagged "Margaret Atwood"
Love, what are we to do
on the streets these days
and how am I
to know that you
and how are you to know
that I, that
we are not parts of those
people, scraps glued together
waiting for a chance
to come to life
I’ll touch the warm
flesh of your throat, and hear
a faint crackle of paper
or you, who think
that you can read my mind
from the inside out, will taste the
black ink on my tongue, and find
the fine print written
just beneath my skin.)
-Margaret Atwood, from “On The Streets, Love”
"To be lost is only a failure of memory.”
-Margaret Atwood, from “A Boat"
"I would rather cut myself loose
from time, shave off my hair
and stand at a crossroads
with a wooden bowl, throwing
myself on the dubious mercy
of the present, which is innocent
and forgetful and hits the eye bare
and without words and without even love
than do this mourning over.”
-Margaret Atwood, from “Precognition"
"You want to wash yourself
in earth, in rocks and grass
What are you supposed to do
with all this loss?”
-Margaret Atwood, from “Down"
in waves like the ocean, a sickness which goes on
& on, a hollow cave
in the head, filling and pounding, a kicked ear.”
-Margaret Atwood, from “Postcard"
"Time comes in waves here, a sickness, one
day after the other rolling on;
I move up, its called
awake, then down into the uneasy
nights but never
Margaret Atwood, from “Postcard"
"We must resist. We must refuse
I said, In exile
is the first necessity.
After that (I say this
we might begin
Survive what? you said.
In the weak light you looked
over your shoulder.
Nobody ever survives.”
-Margaret Atwood, from “Roominghouse, Winter"
"How long will you demand I love you?
I’m through, I won’t make
any more flowers for you
I judge you as the trees do
-Margaret Atwood, from “Power Politics"
"The languages of the dying suns
are themselves dying,
but even the word for this has been forgotten.
The mouth against skin, vivid and fading,
can no longer speak both cherishing and farewell.
it is now only a mouth, only skin.
There is no more longing.”
-Margaret Atwood, from “Marsh Languages"