从三月一直读到五月的书。其实对于散文诗的第一印象不太好（因为迅哥儿），比散文晦涩，又没有诗的韵律，这本选集却挺好，适合茶余饭后失眠又不想读普鲁斯特的时候随手翻一翻。
卡森的选了两篇，Merry Christmas from Hegel和Short Talks。
I pick up the dead phone, its number exiled from its instrument,
The mountains return my stare, untouched by blood.
Return to Harmony 3 Agha Shahid Ali
cup of coffee whose first drink is too hot and whose last drink is too cool, but whose many in-between drinks are, like Baby Bear’s porridge, just right
Prose Poem Ron Padgett
冰咖啡也是，一开始拿着冷，冰化了又觉得寡淡。
Can words play my parts and also find their own way to the house next door as rays converge and solve their differences? Or do notes follow because drawn to a conclusion? If we don’t signal our love, reason will eat our heart out before it can admit its form of mere intention, and we won’t know what has departed.
All roads lead, but how does a sentence do it? Nothing seems hidden, but it goes by so fast when I should like to see it laid open to view whether the engine resembles combustion so that form becomes its own explanation. We’ve been taught to apply solar principles, but must find on our own where to look for Rome the way words rally to the blanks between them and thus augment the volume of their resonance.
from Lawn of Excluded Middle Rosmarie Waldrop
看得透世界看不透话语。
Some barely audible words burst out, but nobody could tell which side of the grille they were coming from. They were probably words of goodbye.
The Word-Gulag Abdellatif Laâbi
所有关于再见的代餐都有了归属。
Me and Molly, that’s M and M, melt in your mouth.
What are we doing in your mouth? Me and Molly bet you’ll never guess. Not in a million years. We plan to be around that long. Together that long. Even if we must freeze the moment and treat the photograph like the real thing.
Me and Molly don’t care what people think. We’re just glad that they do.
Me and Molly lick the dew off the morning grasses but taste no honey till we lick each other’s tongues.
We wear full maternity sails. We boat upon my broken water. The katabatic action begins, Molly down my canal binnacle first, her water breaking in me like an anointing.
An Anointing Thylias Moss
这个M and M第一次读的时候真的觉得awwww好可爱！
The Stumbling Block is a night thing, that sits on the heart. It will sip from the ribs of guilt, to breathe luminous heat into flat shabby lungs elsewhere.
from The Stumbling Block Its Index Brian Catling
sounds erotic
Marigolds, nasturtiums, snapdragons, sweet William, forget-me-nots, replaced by chard, tomatoes, lettuce, garlic, peas, beans, carrots, radishes – but marigolds. The hum hurts.
More sheep than sleep.
We had been in France where every word really was a bird, a thing singing.
An extremely pleasant and often comic satisfaction comes from conjunction, the fit, say, of comprehension in a reader’s mind to content in a writer’s work. But not bitter.
from My Life Lyn Hejinian
这篇我真的很喜欢！
Since all snow-stars have just one pattern: six points, a Star of David in fact. In a minute they will all start melting and turn into a mass of plain snow. In their midst my elderly town has prepared a grave for me too.
The Souvenir Dan Pagis
melting snow and phase equilibrium
How we hate you, busy, ordinary, undying – taxi-driver, purveyor of the Evening Star, secretary bouncing puddings of malleable flesh. Incongruously I plan 100 100-word units. What do you expect me to do – break into bloody haiku?
from C Peter Reading
haiku…
I cannot say all around us. No link. No common root, at best a rhizome, contrived by the other bodies and the noises, in their scatteredness, connected her particularity and mine, within a surface of observation more fleeting even than the last white shred of her tartine at which I saw her now sucking, not chewing, no, but sucking
Or Else Christopher Middleton
A spider was crawling on the wall, tasting the stone with its forelegs. A spider understanding the language of a stone.
Meeting Ezra Pound Miroslav Holub
年轮是树木的语言，裂缝是石头的倾诉。
To read there the map of the future, the roads radiating from the initial split, the filaments thrown out from that impasse
from Shooting Script Adrienne Rich
but how to overcome impasse
For John Clare
it would never occur to them to want to, even if they could take the first step of the terrible journey toward feeling somebody should act, that ends in utter confusion and hopelessness, east of the sun and west of the moon. So their comment is: ‘No comment.’ Meanwhile the whole history of probabilities is coming to life, starting in the upper left-hand corner, like a sail.
For John Clare John Ashbery
And they realized that they had felt the sand back on the first day. It had vanished between their fingers. So they felt the water. It vanished between their fingers. Finally they felt the light. It was as if our fingers were vanishing, they said. And they felt that now they had proof of their love.
from it Inger Christensen
我站在south beach的时候，也喜欢让波浪冲走脚上的沙砾，甚至要数几次它才能全部带走，在我的几十次实验中，大多数情况下不超过两次。而你只转身一次。
Things cannot die in such a spring and yet your silence (for the spring itself proclaims that there are such things as clouds and moons) frightens me when I close my eyes or begin to write a poem.
from Letters to James Alexander Jack Spicer
What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes! – and you, García Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
A Supermarket in California Allen Ginsberg
好奇特的比喻啊
When the spring is unwound, certain gears continue to function for a while, gradually slowing down, until the whole mechanism grinds to a halt. Then, if the sun comes out, everything is erased, the brilliant apparatus evaporates: it has rained.
Rain Francis Ponge
随风潜入夜，次日不见痕。
Pseudo-romantic hollows and hillocks are peopled by reality prostrate and hostile.
London Notes Jessie Dismoor
In Between.
In between a place and candy is a narrow foot-path that shows more mounting than anything, so much really that a calling meaning a bolster measured a whole thing with that. A virgin a whole virgin is judged made and so between curves and outlines and real seasons and more out glasses and a perfectly unprecedented arrangement between old ladies and mild colds there is no satin wood shining.
from Tender Buttons Gertrude Stein
The change the dirt, not to change dirt means that there is no beefsteak and not to have that is no obstruction, it is so easy to exchange meaning, it is so easy to see the difference. The difference is that a plain resource is not entangled with thickness and it does not mean that thickness shows such cutting, it does mean that a meadow is useful and a cow absurd. It does not mean that there are tears, it does not mean that exudation is cumbersome, it means no more than a memory, a choice and a reestablishment, it means more than any escape from a surrounding extra. All the time that there is use there is use and any time there is a surface there is a surface, and every time there is an exception there is an exception and every time there is a division there is a dividing. Any time there is a surface there is a surface and every time there is a suggestion there is a suggestion and every time there is silence there is silence and every time that is languid there is that there then and not oftener, not always, not particular, tender and changing and external and central and surrounded and singular and simple and the same and the surface and the circle and the shine and the succor and the white and the same and the better and the red and the same and the centre and the yellow and the tender and the better, and altogether.
from Tender Buttons Gertrude Stein
He has known us all and loved us all. Let us, on this winter night, from cape to cape, from the tumultuous pole to the castle, from the crowd to the beach, from glance to glance, our strengths and feelings numb, learn to hail him and see him, and send him back, and under the tides and at the summit of snowy deserts, follow his seeing, his breathing, his body, his day.
Genie Arthur Rimbaud
Outer sounds like traffic and shoveling vanish. Inner sounds become audible, cracks, sighs, caresses, twigs, birdbreath, toenails of squirrel.
Knife
It was the lever between inner and outer worlds, it showed that the airs and waters, rocks and earth, moving and combining and resisting one another, obeying the spirits that ruled them, had their equivalent workings, their times of calm and upheaval, under the skin; in the wallowing lungs, the weeping flesh, the flowing heart, and in all the symmetries of bones and muscles, the asymmetries of lower organs, the random belt of the guts. It brought the cross-sections of life within grasp. Behind it, the physician’s trial and error, the surgeon’s initiative; the whole breathing, faltering body of science.Gross desire is a river tapestry with water like ribbons – he tells me.
“Hers is not a world of surfaces – skin, husks, bark with definite edges and identities.
Trees appear as columns of light melting into surroundings where form is discerned, but is glowing, transparent, mingling like breath.
She tends to a plant by maintaining fusion between the plant’s form and life-vitality contained within.”“To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow.
– Amana Colony, Iowa”“To light a lamp is to hide darkness in the same closet as sleep, along with silence, desire, and yesterday’s obsessions. To read a book is to marry two solitudes, the way a conversation erases and erects, words prepare for wordlessness, a cloud for its own absence, and snow undresses for spring.
The bedroom is where you left it, although the creases and humps on the sheets no longer share your outline and worldview. In that way, they are like the children you never had time for.”“Walls hold peace as much as distance. A kettle is not reason enough for tears.
The correct answer to a mirror is always, yes.”Short Prayer to Sound
No matter who two are kissing, eternity arrives, jelly bean eyes black crystal balls. The longer we look, the more we recognize and anything we could say is too obvious. The songs we like are the songs we know, and every song on the radio is about us.