When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold.
By Wislawa Szymborska
Translated by S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh
Copyright Ā© Wislawa Szymborska, S. Baranczak & C. Cavanagh
Artist
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Caminante, no hay camino. Se hace camino al andar. Wayfarer, there is no way. You make a way as you go. (Antonio Machado)
all that inspires, shocks and makes me purr
Freyja Howls is a writer, performer and activist who would have been a style icon and comedian a century ago.
Dreams, thoughts, and experiences expressed through poetry and prose
Musings on poetry, language, perception, numbers, food, and anything else that slips through the cracks.
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Word is itself, perhaps. It says little about itself, however. Not quite worm, not quite sword, but nonetheless, slippy and sharp.
This is very good
Daaaaamn. Hard and raw like a spring downpour on the face.
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