The way a source strains toward the light, toward the air. Its laboring work, its effort, its black passageways like despair. That’s the way a poet l…

- Anna Kamienska

There are things better left untouched by words.

- Anna Kamienska

I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played.

- Anna Kamienska

I have no talent. I write poems for myself, to think things through, that’s all.

- Anna Kamienska

Even a painful longing is some form of presence.

- Anna Kamienska

I returned to confirm there can be no return.

- Anna Kamienska

Tell me what's the difference

- Anna Kamienska

I’ve learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what’s unsaid, what’s underneath. Understanding on anothe…

- Anna Kamienska

I’m moved by everything broken and crippled. Since that’s how we really are.

- Anna Kamienska