New Wilderness Letter (1977-1984)
Hannes Möller, Imaginary Libraries (via erikkwakkel)
There is no refugeMatt Rasmussen (via)
Es gibt so viel Poesie, und doch ist nichts seltner als ein Poem.
Friedrich Schlegel, Kritische Fragmente (1797)
"There is so much poetry, and yet there is nothing rarer than a poem."
I read a lot in 2013. I didn’t read even more. Below are some books I wanted or hoped to read this year but didn’t.
Hypothermia, Companion Grasses, A Brighter Word Than Bright, Selected Poems & Prose of Edward Thomas, River of Shadows, Hyperobjects, The Kraus Project, Double Negative, Human Space, The Black Lake, The Silent Crossing, Permission, How Forests Think, Black Sunlight, The Present Hour, Tiepolo Pink, Into the Silence, Imperial Nostalgias, Crisis of the European Mind, The Marriage of Cadmus and Harmony, The No World Concerto, Seedtime, Towards the One and Only Metaphor, Speedboat and Pitch Dark, Riddley Walker, A Topology of Everyday Constellations, A Foray into the Worlds of Animals and Humans, The Infatuations, The Book of Questions, The Beggar’s Knife, H.D. Book, Piano Stories, A Form/Of Taking/It All, The Man Who Loved Children, A Brief History of Yes, Roadside Picnic, Oblivion, Modern Poetry and the Idea of Language, How to Live, The Secret Heart of the Clock, Magic Mountain, The Open, Plotinus or The Simplicity of Vision, The Master and His Emissary, From the Closed World to the Infinite Universe, Zona, Independent People, The Poetics of Reverie, The Road to Xanadu, The Summits of Modern Man, Fugitive Pieces, A German Picturesque, Alone, Nightwork, Walking and Mapping, Zibaldone, Nobody Nothing Never, The Leafless American, PrairyErth, The Horizon: A Study of Our Infinite Longing, The House of Breath, Days, Landscape with Landscape, Firefly…
Bill Morrison, The Mesmerist (2003)
Poetry, I’m often told, is something made of words. I think it really goes the other way around: words are made of poetry.Robert Bringhurst, “What is Found in Translation”
August Natterer, “Miracle Shepherd II” (1911-1917)
“… At 38 he began to suffer from increasing restlessness, insomnia and fatigue. His suffering soon culminated in a psychotic attack in which the whole world was explained to him in the space of half an hour via 15,000 pictures.” +
Richard Skelton, Verse of Birds (2012)
We sleep in language, if language does not come to wake us with its strangeness.Robert Kelly (via ounu)
Softy, softly, the books.Amina Cain, “Words Come to Me”
What is the source of our first suffering? It lies in the fact that we hesitated to speak… It was born in the moments when we accumulated silent things within us.Gaston Bachelard, Water and Dreams