Sandra Lim
  
    More books by Sandra Lim…
      “AMOR FATI Inside every world there is another world trying to get out, and there is something in you that would like to discount this world. The stars could rise in darkness over heartbreaking coasts, and you would not know if you were ruining your life or beginning a real one. You could claim professional fondness for the world around you; the pictures would dissolve under the paint coming alive, and you would only feel a phantom skip of the heart, absorbed so in the colors. Your disbelief is a later novel emerging in the long, long shadow of an earlier one— is this the great world, which is whatever is the case? The sustained helplessness you feel in the long emptiness of days is matched by the new suspiciousness and wrath you wake to each morning. Isn’t this a relationship with your death, too, to fall in love with your inscrutable life? Your teeth fill with cavities. There is always unearned happiness for some, and the criminal feeling of solitude. Always, everyone lies about his life.”
    
― The Wilderness: Poems
  ― The Wilderness: Poems
      “SELVA ANTICA What dreams! Those forests! —SAMUEL BECKETT, ENDGAME It was a way to think in the unearthly openness of time. You stepped away from this world so that you could consider it from afar. Did the moon still appear cold and indifferent? Did a human sound seem singular? You only remember that there was nothing to eat in this wilderness, so that by the time spring came, in generation and decay, it was not abstract enough for you— In your want you conjured more blankness, a prodigious emptiness, the fair schoolroom of the sky. Paradise would be paper-white, a way to ease into this nothingness.”
    
― The Wilderness: Poems
  ― The Wilderness: Poems
      “NATURE MORTE You are given two things today, one is an angry nail in your side; Changing what you are able to sense is the second thing you are gifted. Nature is always a referred existence, writes Emerson, never a presence. Who knows where the time goes, sings Sandy Denny. Who can bear to hear it? One reaches the moment when one loses words—in the pastoral, in the cosmic? Think about the scars on the planets, & how patient those stars seem to be. I am painting the natural landscape with my eyes closed today. It is like writing A poem with all the cross-outs left in; an expression like never thought I’d see the day. Nature that begins with unknowable & ends with more monotonous hills. Today, I want to be the country-fried philosophe or a Hudson River School painting. When this life is over, describe to me how its concave & convex forms are & are not. We live amid surfaces, writes Emerson, & the true art of life is to skate well on them.”
    
― The Wilderness: Poems
  ― The Wilderness: Poems
Is this you? Let us know. If not, help out and invite Sandra to Goodreads.

    









