21
" At Night on the High SeasAt night, when the sea cradles meAnd the pale star gleamLies down on its broad waves,Then I free myself whollyFrom all activity and all the loveAnd stand silent and breathe purely,Alone, alone cradled by the seaThat lies there, cold and silent, with a thousand lights.Then I have to think of my friendsAnd my gaze sinks into their eyes,And I ask each one, silent and alone:" Are you still mine?Is my sorrow a sorrow to you, my death a death?Do you feel from my love, my grief,Just a breath, just an echo?" And the sea peacefully gazes back, silent,And smiles: NOAnd no greetings and no answers come from anywhere. "
22
" This MomentThis straining, messy, awful,moment in time Is perfect. Push aside your agenda for a second and you’ll find perfection bursting out of its confines.This moment brings truth,illuminates weaknesses,and builds power and wisdomto make us stronger.There are numerous signs, here and now,that teach so profoundly,that validate the strengths we hold inside,that let us know who we really loveand what we need to say.If we can make ourselves look at these signs,at the whole picture, at how it fits together, at where our path is leading, we might discover how to turn our direction,So this moment can rise upriding a cloud of joy,and heal. "
27
" Poetry, I tell my students,is idiosyncratic. Poetryis where we are ourselves,(though Sterling Brown said" Every 'I' is a dramatic 'I'" )digging in the clam flatsfor the shell that snaps,emptying the proverbial pocketbook.Poetry is what you findin the dirt in the corner,overhear on the bus, Godin the details, the only wayto get from here to there.Poetry (and now my voice is rising)is not all love, love, loveand I'm sorry the dog died.Poetry (here I hear myself loudest)is the human voice,and are we not of interest to each other? "
32
" We should live, my Lesbia, and love
And value all the talk of stricter
Old men at a single penny.
Suns can set and rise again;
For us, once our brief light has set,
There's one unending night for sleeping.
Give me a thousand kisses, then a hundred,
Then another thousand, then a second hundred,
Then still another thousand, then a hundred;
Then, when we've made many thousands,
We'll muddle them so as not to know
Or lest some villain overlook us
Knowing the total of our kisses.
(Translated by Guy Lee) "
― Catullus , The Complete Poems
