JL

“The poem is lonely. It is lonely and enroute. —

from “The Meridian”
― Paul Celan, Selected Poems

“Once,
I did hear him,
he did wash the world,
unseen, nightlong,
real.

One and unending,
annihilated,
I'ed.

Light was. Salvation”
― Paul Celan, Breathturn into Timestead: The Collected Later Poetry

“From beholding the blackbirds, evenings,
through the unbarred, that
surrounds me,

I promised myself weapons.

From beholding the weapons— hands,
from beholding the hands— the long ago
by the sharp, flat
pebble written line

— Wave, you
carried it hither, honed it,
gave yourself, un-
losable, up,
shoresand, you take,
take in,
sea-oats, blow
yours along— ,

the line, the line,
through which we swim, entwined,
twice each millennium,
all that singing at the fingers,

that even the through us living,
magnificent-unexplainable
flood does not believe us.”
― Paul Celan, Breathturn

“Alex slept in Darlington's bed and dreamed that he was curled behind her on the narrow mattress.
He pulled her close, his fingers digging into her abdomen, and she could feel claws at their tips. He whispered in her ear, "I will serve you 'til the end of days."
"And love me," she said with a laugh, bold in the dream, unafraid.
But all he said was, "It is not the same.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House