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 looks for words. With muscles, gestures.
There are things better left untouched by words. - Anna Kamienska
There are things better left untouched by words.
- Anna Kamienska
I have no talent. I write poems for myself, to think things through, that’s all. - Anna Kamienska
I have no talent. I write poems for myself, to think things through, that’s all.
Even a painful longing is some form of presence. - Anna Kamienska
Even a painful longing is some form of presence.
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
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…
I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played. - Anna Kamienska
I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played.
Letters of the condemned. Last words scratched on a cell’s wall. To write like that. - Anna Kamienska
Letters of the condemned. Last words scratched on a cell’s wall. To write like that.
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’ve learned to value failed conversations, missed connections, confusions. What remains is what’s unsaid, what’s underneath. Understanding on anothe…
I returned to confirm there can be no return. - Anna Kamienska
I returned to confirm there can be no return.
I’m moved by everything broken and crippled. Since that’s how we really are. - Anna Kamienska
I’m moved by everything broken and crippled. Since that’s how we really are.
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