metaphorformetaphor
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metaphorformetaphor: GoaShape
metaphorformetaphor: “I am a book of apocalypses written in a language I don’t speak and I have no author.” — Hélène Cixous, from Reveries of the Wild Woman: Primal Scenes (Northwestern University Press, 2006)
metaphorformetaphor: “Don’t let my silence wound you. I’m just tired of words.” — Manuel Bandeira, from “Rest Your Hand on My Forehead,” This Earth, That Sky: Poems by Manuel Bandeira (University of California Press, 2018)
metaphorformetaphor: “What is left to us except a twilight that reminds us of tendernesses near and far?” — Mohamed Choukri, from Streetwise (Telegram Books, 2007)
metaphorformetaphor: Far from me and similar to the stars, to the sea and to all the accessories of poetic mythology, Far from me and yet here without your knowing it, Far from me and
metaphorformetaphor: Let the ocean carry it all by Zeb Andrews
metaphorformetaphor: Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to was never there, and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it. Where is there a place for you to be? No place […] Nothing outside you can give you
metaphorformetaphor: By riding words that are bridled and reined Man has quickened The pace of time’s slow clocks: […] But sometimes they slip like robbers into realms of fantasy, Float on ebbing waters Of sleep, free of barriers, Lashing any sort
metaphorformetaphor: Don’t ask me why I came down to the water’s edge— hell, I was young, and I thought I knew life, I thought I could hold the darkness the way a man holds a cup of coffee before he wakens— Philip Levine, from “Here
metaphorformetaphor: The world is filled with remembering and forgetting like sea and dry land. Sometimes memory is the solid ground we stand on, sometimes memory is the sea that covers all things like the Flood. And
metaphorformetaphor: Praia do Flamengo - Bahia by AmandaSaldanha on Flickr.
metaphorformetaphor: All pain enrages. Why am I not in contact with my anger? What do I feel? Depression. But that means I am “depressing” another emotion. Despair, then. But despair is a conclusion one draws from a history of pain (it’s happening
the distance between two doors
metaphorformetaphor: I want to be left alone. I want to sit in the grass. I want to ride my horse. I want to lay a woman naked in the grass on the mountainside. I want to think. I want to pray. I want to sleep. I want to look at the stars. I want what
metaphorformetaphor: I wrote about myself so I wouldn’t become paralyzed by rumination— so I could stop thinking about what had happened and be done with it.— Sarah Manguso, from Ongoingness: The End of a Diary (Graywolf Press , 2015)
metaphorformetaphor: “We will swear to each other, one day, shall we?” […] “We will swear to stand by each other—be true to each other—ultimately—infallibly—given to each other, organically—without possibility of taking back.”—
metaphorformetaphor: When you love someone, you do not love them all the time, in exactly the same way, from moment to moment. It is an impossibility. It is even a lie to pretend to. And yet this is exactly what most of us demand. We have so little faith
metaphorformetaphor: Atlantic Ocean Power ll by Philippe
metaphorformetaphor:a tide
metaphorformetaphor: cathy Delacroix
metaphorformetaphor: “And no matter what I was doing, another me sat in my belly, absolutely cold with terror over the question of my life.” — James Baldwin, from Giovanni’s Room (Vintage, 2013; first published 1956)
metaphorformetaphor: “I am overcome with the strangest anxiety as if I’ve left myself somewhere in the world.” — Shahrouz Rashid, from “Letter to Father,” Belonging: New Poetry by Iranians Around the World (North Atlantic Books, 2008)
metaphorformetaphor: He longed to disappear and be alone to inhale a breath of relief, but he stayed where he was, as though tied down with heavy ropes.— Naguib Mahfouz, from Palace Walk (Anchor, 1990) Every day…..
metaphorformetaphor: “Something wants to be said but the words don’t agree.” — Tomas Tranströmer, from “Baltics,” New Collected Poems: Dikter och prosa 1954-2004 (Bloodaxe Books, 2015)
metaphorformetaphor: “What sharp longing! What idiotic hope!” — Tomas Tranströmer, from “Many Steps,” New Collected Poems: Dikter och prosa 1954-2004 (Bloodaxe Books, 2015)
metaphorformetaphor: T.S. Eliot - BBC Arena Portrait
metaphorformetaphor: When it’s over, I realise it wasn’t love. Love is to be lived, not remembered.— Mahmoud Darwish, from “Darwish’s vision and longing" in Weekend Review, August 14, 2008
metaphorformetaphor: I was always hungry for love. Just once, I wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it—to be fed so much love I couldn’t take any more. Just once. — Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (Vintage, 2003)
metaphorformetaphor: The mere act of searching is proof that I refuse to get lost in my loss. The other side of this effort is the proof that I am in fact lost as long as I have not found what I have lost. — Mahmoud Darwish, from “The Moon Did
metaphorformetaphor:“I have this fantasy: It’s early in the evening. You and I are sitting in the backyard, talking. […] The lovely summer twilight lasts forever …” — John Koethe, from “Falling Water,” North Point North: New and Selected
metaphorformetaphor: “WHY GO ON like this? It really does seem a bit ridiculous. The weather is beautiful outside, today, right now, a breeze is blowing, there are clouds in the sky, waves on the sea, leaves on the trees. I can hear street noises,
![metaphorformetaphor:“I have this fantasy: It’s early in the evening. You and I are sitting in the backyard, talking. […] The lovely summer twilight lasts forever …” — John Koethe, from “Falling Water,” North Point North: New and Selected](https://64.media.tumblr.com/ecfb37d9f44ad7f2cb66e9db4b578657/99aa82ff8689126d-4a/s512x512u_c1/3d5868874527e00e202461670bc69b67b263dd15.jpg)