Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.

Mark Strand

Mots clés happiness poetry



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No voice comes from outer space, from the folds of dust and carpets of wind to tell us that this is the way it was meant to happen, that if only we knew how long the ruins would last we would never complain.

Mark Strand

Mots clés life fate



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...In another time,
What cannot be seen will define us, and we shall be prompted

To say that language is error, and all things are wronged
By representation. The self, we shall say, can never be
Seen with a disguise, and never be seen without one.

Mark Strand


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Each moment is a place
you've never been.

Mark Strand


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The ultimate self-effacement
is not the pretense of the minimal,
but the jocular considerations of the maximal
in the manner of Wallace Stevens.

Mark Strand


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When I walk
I part the air
and always
the air moves in
to fill the spaces
where my body's been.

Mark Strand


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Even this late it happens:
the coming of love, the coming of light.

Mark Strand

Mots clés poetry



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One clear night while the others slept, I climbed
the stairs to the roof of the house and under a sky
strewn with stars I gazed at the sea, at the spread of it,
the rolling crests of it raked by the wind, becoming
like bits of lace tossed in the air. I stood in the long
whispering night, waiting for something, a sign, the approach
of a distant light, and I imagined you coming closer,
the dark waves of your hair mingling with the sea,
and the dark became desire, and desire the arriving light.
The nearness, the momentary warmth of you as I stood
on that lonely height watching the slow swells of the sea
break on the shore and turn briefly into glass and disappear...
Why did I believe you would come out of nowhere? Why with all
that the world offers would you come only because I was here?

Mark Strand

Mots clés black-sea mark-strand



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We are reading the story of our lives
As though we were in it
As though we had written it

Mark Strand


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We are reading the story of our lives
As though we were in it
As though we had written it.

Mark Strand


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