Occupation: Poet Birth: November 23, 1920 Death: April 20, 1970
Black milk of daybreak we drink it at sundown..
Poetry is a sort of homecoming..
Illegibility of this world. All things twice over. The strong clocks justify the splitting hour, hoarsely. You , clamped into your deepest part, clim….
They've healed me to pieces..
There's nothing in the world for which a poet will give up writing, not even he is a Jew and the language of his poems is German..
There was earth inside them, and they dug..
A poem, being an instance of language, hence essentially dialogue, may be a letter in a bottle thrown out to the sea with the-surely not always stron….
Each arrow you shoot off carries its own target into the decidedly secret tangle.
Tall poplars--human beings of this earth!.
Only truthful hands write true poems. I cannot see any basic difference between a handshake and a poem..
Don't sign your name between worlds, surmount the manifold of meanings, trust the tearstain, learn to live..
German poetry is going in a very different direction from French poetry.... Its language has become more sober, more factual. It distrusts "beauty." ….
The language with which I make my poems has nothing to do with one spoken here, or anywhere..
The two heart-grey puddles: two mouthsfull of silence..
rush of pine scent (once upon a time), the unlicensed conviction there ought to be another way of saying this..
Count up the almonds, Count what was bitter and kept you waking, Count me in too: I sought your eye when you glanced up and no one would see you, I s….
you're rowing by wordlight.
With a changing key, you unlock the house where the snow of what’s silenced drifts. Just like the blood that bursts from Your eye or mouth or ear, so….
I went with my very being toward language..
How you die out in me: down to the last worn-out knot of breath you're there, with a splinter of life..
no one bears witness for the witness.