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
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.
Even a painful longing is some form of presence. - Anna Kamienska
Even a painful longing is some form of presence.
Tell me what's the difference - Anna Kamienska
Tell me what's the difference
I returned to confirm there can be no return. - Anna Kamienska
I returned to confirm there can be no return.
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.
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’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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