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Retrievals Quotes
Retrievals
by
Richard Jackson10 ratings, 4.40 average rating, 1 review
Retrievals Quotes
Showing 1-7 of 7
“Some days you exist like the last speaker of an extinct language. These are the silences that litter the heart.”
― Retrievals
― Retrievals
“The memory of things become the reality of things.
Or maybe the past is not permanent. Maybe the tree has
said its fill, and leaves us with an image of ourselves.”
― Retrievals
Or maybe the past is not permanent. Maybe the tree has
said its fill, and leaves us with an image of ourselves.”
― Retrievals
“When do you realize the selves you left behind
have gone on without you, living the many
lives you now begin to resemble?”
― Retrievals
have gone on without you, living the many
lives you now begin to resemble?”
― Retrievals
“So much of what we dream flickers out before we can
name it. Even the sun has been frozen on the next street.
Every word only reveals a past that never seems real.
Sometimes we just stare at the ground as if it were
a grave we could rent for a while. Sometimes we don’t
understand how all that grief fits beside us on the stoop.
There should be some sort of metaphor that lifts us away.
We should see the sky open up or the stars descend.
There are birds migrating, but we don’t hear them, cars
on their way to futures made of a throw of the dice.
The pigeons here bring no messages. A few flies
stitch the air. Sometimes a poem knows no way out
unless truth becomes just a homeless character in it.”
― Retrievals
name it. Even the sun has been frozen on the next street.
Every word only reveals a past that never seems real.
Sometimes we just stare at the ground as if it were
a grave we could rent for a while. Sometimes we don’t
understand how all that grief fits beside us on the stoop.
There should be some sort of metaphor that lifts us away.
We should see the sky open up or the stars descend.
There are birds migrating, but we don’t hear them, cars
on their way to futures made of a throw of the dice.
The pigeons here bring no messages. A few flies
stitch the air. Sometimes a poem knows no way out
unless truth becomes just a homeless character in it.”
― Retrievals
“My own heart seems / locked away, the combinations lost, tomorrow lost / among the endless echoes of words not yet spoken. — Richard Jackson, from “The Invisible Object,” Retrievals (C & R Press,”
― Retrievals
― Retrievals
“Sometimes I think
the soul is a shadow even gravity can’t touch,
and love is what passes in the mirror as we look away.
from “Desperate Note from Byron’s Palace in Lerici”
― Retrievals
the soul is a shadow even gravity can’t touch,
and love is what passes in the mirror as we look away.
from “Desperate Note from Byron’s Palace in Lerici”
― Retrievals
“Desperate Note from Byron’s Palace in Lerici”
In the blue wind the leaves begin to think they are birds.
This is when you lean your body against its sorrows.
The truth is always there with its hidden reefs.
Your touch still hovers over the shore. Each wave is
a mirror that washes in a past we wanted hidden.
Now our voices are roosting in the branches.
Everything is echo, or shadow. Your shadow
walking on the other side of the street, your shadow
sitting in a passing car, your last words casting
the shadow that has replaced my own. Where have
we been that has brought us here? The past burrows
into me like an insect. The tree frogs, after tonight’s
rain, fill the woods. They throw their voices
so predators can’t find them. The old truths are
falling from the branches. The old dreams wash up
on the shores of our souls. Sometimes I think
the soul is a shadow even gravity can’t touch,
and love is what passes in the mirror as we look away.”
― Retrievals
In the blue wind the leaves begin to think they are birds.
This is when you lean your body against its sorrows.
The truth is always there with its hidden reefs.
Your touch still hovers over the shore. Each wave is
a mirror that washes in a past we wanted hidden.
Now our voices are roosting in the branches.
Everything is echo, or shadow. Your shadow
walking on the other side of the street, your shadow
sitting in a passing car, your last words casting
the shadow that has replaced my own. Where have
we been that has brought us here? The past burrows
into me like an insect. The tree frogs, after tonight’s
rain, fill the woods. They throw their voices
so predators can’t find them. The old truths are
falling from the branches. The old dreams wash up
on the shores of our souls. Sometimes I think
the soul is a shadow even gravity can’t touch,
and love is what passes in the mirror as we look away.”
― Retrievals
