“We should resist the tyranny of linear time for one which is much more elusive, labyrinthian, gracious and once understood, perhaps even kindly. Once we recognise that it can fold in on itself – wherein, for example, recent events can seem distant and more distant ones seems closer – we then have a greater fluidity of means.”
“Several pieces of the body or its appendages are outlined without any blurring, and remain reproduced with the fidelity of an anatomical drawing: one of the antennae, two curved mandibles, the head and the first joint, half of the second, three large legs. Then come the other parts, less precise: sections of legs and the partial form of a body convulsed into a question mark.”
“So much I gazed upon beauty,
my vision is alive with it.
Contours of the body. Red lips.
Hair as if taken from greek statues;
always beautiful, even when uncombed,
and it falls, slightly, over foreheads.
Faces of love, as my poetry
wanted them…in the nights of my youth,
in my nights, secretly, met…”
“He called her a melon, a pineapple, an olive tree, an emerald, and a fox in the snow all in the space of three seconds; he did not know whether he had heard her, tasted her, seen her, or all three together.”
“The water calmed him. He would float on its surface, with only his wet face breaking its humid skin. For as long as he could, he would stare at the sky, the azure surface, the statuary clouds, the oppressive sun. This is what nature was for the man: an unambiguous, distinct phenomenon, which would lazily rest in front of his playful gaze.”
“A little while ago I wrote that though I shall die, nothing else will. And I must make my meaning clear. Wonder at the sight of a cornfield, at a rock, at the touch of a rough hand – all the millions of emotions of which I'm made – they won't disappear even though I shall. Other men will experience them, and they'll still be there because of them. More and more I believe I exist in order to be the terrain and proof which show other men that life consists in the uninterrupted emotions flowing through all creation. The happiness my hand knows in a boy's hair will be known by another hand, is already known. And although I shall die, that happiness will live on. ‘I’ may die, but what made that ‘I’ possible, what made possible the joy of being, will make the joy of being live on without me.”
“If you catch him,
hold up a flashlight to his eye. It’s all dark pupil,
an entire night itself, whose haired horizon tightens
as he stares back, and closes up the eye. Then from the lids
one tear, his only possession, like the bee’s sting, slips.
Slyly he palms it, and if you’re not paying attention
he’ll swallow it. However, if you watch, he’ll hand it over,
cool as from underground springs and pure enough to drink.”