W.S. Merwin

So this is what I amPondering his eyes that could notConceive that I was a creature to run fromI who have always believed too much in words

So this is what I amPondering his eyes that could notConceive that I was a creature to run fromI who have always believed too much in words

– W.S. Merwin –

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Pablo Neruda

I stalk certain words… I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me, vibrant, ivory, vegetable, oily, like fruit, like algae, like agates, like olives… I stir them, I shake them, I drink them, I gulp them down, I mash them, I garnish them… I leave them in my poem like stalactites, like slivers of polished wood, like coals, like pickings from a shipwreck, gifts from the waves… Everything exists in the word.

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