dom if the signs were poems which poems would they be?
I am the wound and the knife!
I am the slap and the cheek!
I am the limbs and the rack,
And the victim and the executioner!
I am the vampire of my own heart.
– Charles Baudelaire
I am composed of particles which are
different from me —
though you categorize me as Particle Doll.
If you fuck with my brain change my particles, chemicals
you’ll perceive a different me
as far as you’re
concerned, but you’ve never
really perceived me anyway.
— Alice Notley
Sure, in the end, like any soul
you were endless and yets—
brave, deft with phrases, kind—
three cheers for you. Too closed to
want what others love, you vetoed life.
Were there other worlds to crave?
— Steven Heighton
That I manage badly,
Manage badly but live gloriously,
That I leave traces of myself in my songs,
That I appeared to you in waking dreams.
– Anna Akhmatova
My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
I never know what you are thinking. Think.
– T.S Eliot
Call me rough, ill-tempered, slovenly— I tell you,
every tenderness I have ever known
has been nothing
but thwarted violence, an ache
so permanent and deep, the lightest touch
awakens it … It is impossible
to care enough.
– Rita Dove
Yet I’d risk my life
on that dilly dally buttercup
called dreams. She of the origin,
she of the primal crack, she of the boiling beginning,
she of the riddle, she keeps me here,
toiling and toiling.
– Anne Sexton
I am pure emotion and you must pour me
into something pure. I will live for me
I will die thanks to unconditional love.
– Jenny Zhang
I feel like I am floating in plasma
I need a teacher or a lover
I need someone to risk being involved with me.
I am so vain
and I am so masochistic.
How can they coexist?
– Francesca Woodman
Red foam of desire, slaughter on the high seas,
blue rocks of delirium,
forms, images, bubbles, the hunger to be,
excesses: your measure of man.
Dare to do it:
be the bow and the arrow, the string and the “ay!”
Dream is explosive. Explode. Be a sun again.
– Octavio Paz
Is this you, this edgy joke
I make, are these your long fingers,
your hair of an untidy bird,
is this your outraged
eye, this grip
that will not give up?
– Margaret Atwood
It is easy for a person to think
themselves into a forest. Nighttime
or otherwise, then think about when
the object of your desire
is also the object
of your disgust.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
– Wendy Xu