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Lisa Olstein’s Followers (15)
Lisa Olstein
Born
in The United States
November 18, 1972
Website
Genre
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Pain Studies
—
published
2020
—
8 editions
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Radio Crackling, Radio Gone
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published
2006
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3 editions
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Lost Alphabet
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published
2009
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5 editions
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Little Stranger
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published
2013
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4 editions
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Late Empire
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published
2017
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2 editions
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Dream Apartment
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Bodies Built for Game: The Prairie Schooner Anthology of Contemporary Sports Writing
by
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published
2019
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2 editions
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The Resemblance of the Enzymes of Grasses to Those of Whales Is a Family Resemblance
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published
2016
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Weh: Über den Schmerz und das Leben
by |
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Distinguished Office of Echoes
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“...so even if spring continues to disappoint
we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.”
―
we can say at least the lettuce loved the rain.”
―
“Labor pain is like all pain, unknowable except while being lived. Fundamentally a creature of the present, physical pain remembered is by definition pain divorced. The difference between recalling the flu and having it—between expecting a child and having one—is like the difference between hearing a description of waves and drowning.”
― Pain Studies
― Pain Studies
“Aubade"
This is how it is to sleep
with deer nearby, invisibly around
in beds of flattened grasses,
wet muzzles wetted with dew
late, when it comes,
and early they are standing,
true prey, watching the air
with satellite-dish ears as they nose
the ground, crushing ferns
between tooth and hoof.
Forgive me if I touch your face
in place of another face,
with these fingers in the place
of other fingers, my own,
the ones I remember.
There is no end that does not end,
no going on that does not worsen.
The moment is far away.
The dents in my eyes are
where the future lives
but my eyes are closed.
Sleep ravels away from me.
One by one we gentle our loves
to the ground. This is how
it is to sleep near a sea
that sounds like the traffic
of familiar feet, the way rain sounds
to the sea, the way deer sound
to a cougar gliding across the field
at hungry dawn.”
―
This is how it is to sleep
with deer nearby, invisibly around
in beds of flattened grasses,
wet muzzles wetted with dew
late, when it comes,
and early they are standing,
true prey, watching the air
with satellite-dish ears as they nose
the ground, crushing ferns
between tooth and hoof.
Forgive me if I touch your face
in place of another face,
with these fingers in the place
of other fingers, my own,
the ones I remember.
There is no end that does not end,
no going on that does not worsen.
The moment is far away.
The dents in my eyes are
where the future lives
but my eyes are closed.
Sleep ravels away from me.
One by one we gentle our loves
to the ground. This is how
it is to sleep near a sea
that sounds like the traffic
of familiar feet, the way rain sounds
to the sea, the way deer sound
to a cougar gliding across the field
at hungry dawn.”
―
Topics Mentioning This Author
| topics | posts | views | last activity | |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| The Next Best Boo...: Jennifer's 2016 REM Reading Challenge | 3 | 34 | Jan 24, 2016 07:40AM |
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