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And Her Soul Out Of Nothing Quotes
And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
by
Olena Kalytiak Davis1,586 ratings, 4.20 average rating, 63 reviews
And Her Soul Out Of Nothing Quotes
Showing 1-19 of 19
“I thought: please don’t grow
familiar. I think I said it out loud:
Please don’t let me love you
that horrible way.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
familiar. I think I said it out loud:
Please don’t let me love you
that horrible way.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“The situation is grave: the way we lean over each other, the way years later we emerge: hunchbacked, hooded, with full grown tender things called souls.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“You should bury more than the dead.
You should try harder.
You should give up.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
You should try harder.
You should give up.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“The sky has stopped
offering you reasons to live and your heart is the rock
you threw through each window
of what's deserted you, so you turn
to the burnt out building inside you: the scaffolding
overhead, the fallen beams,
the unsound framework;
according to the blue that's printed on the inside of your arms
you have no plans, no plans
uncovered, or uncovering: the offing is emptying,
the horizon empty
now that your sanity is
a tarp or a bedsheet
in the rough hands of the wind,
now that everything is hooded
in drop cloth.
It didn't happen
overnight. Or maybe it did:
your heart, the rock;
your soul, the Gothic barn.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
offering you reasons to live and your heart is the rock
you threw through each window
of what's deserted you, so you turn
to the burnt out building inside you: the scaffolding
overhead, the fallen beams,
the unsound framework;
according to the blue that's printed on the inside of your arms
you have no plans, no plans
uncovered, or uncovering: the offing is emptying,
the horizon empty
now that your sanity is
a tarp or a bedsheet
in the rough hands of the wind,
now that everything is hooded
in drop cloth.
It didn't happen
overnight. Or maybe it did:
your heart, the rock;
your soul, the Gothic barn.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“Every time you wish the sky was something happening to your heart, you lose twice.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“Remember the year I stopped eating apples?
Remember the summer I kept bringing home
abandoned chairs? A lucid Vincent wrote
to his brother: I have tried
to express the terrible passions
of humanity by means of red and green.
His self-portrait now hangs in the Fogg.
Remember the summer I had to walk
to the Lake just to feel anything at all?
When I descend late in the afternoon
there’s a blue plate of heart-
shaped cookies, there’s an orange
on the kitchen counter. I notice a crack
in the seam of the ceiling, a spider
vein on the inside of my knee.
What a still still life!
The rest of the day is a slanted floorboard.
The rest of the day is the color of absinthe.
Note the personal and detached attitude.
Note the application of arbitrary color.
The tilted perspective.
This poem is all surface.
You may stand where you choose.
This poem has no vanishing point.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
Remember the summer I kept bringing home
abandoned chairs? A lucid Vincent wrote
to his brother: I have tried
to express the terrible passions
of humanity by means of red and green.
His self-portrait now hangs in the Fogg.
Remember the summer I had to walk
to the Lake just to feel anything at all?
When I descend late in the afternoon
there’s a blue plate of heart-
shaped cookies, there’s an orange
on the kitchen counter. I notice a crack
in the seam of the ceiling, a spider
vein on the inside of my knee.
What a still still life!
The rest of the day is a slanted floorboard.
The rest of the day is the color of absinthe.
Note the personal and detached attitude.
Note the application of arbitrary color.
The tilted perspective.
This poem is all surface.
You may stand where you choose.
This poem has no vanishing point.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“O, to be stung by an errant bee. O, to sting.
O, to see you again. Covered in spring.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
O, to see you again. Covered in spring.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“[...] Pacing
from room to room and in each window
a different version of a framed woman
unable to rest, set against a sky
full of beating wings and abandoned
directions. Her five chambered heart
filling with the panic of birds, asking: What?
What if not this?”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
from room to room and in each window
a different version of a framed woman
unable to rest, set against a sky
full of beating wings and abandoned
directions. Her five chambered heart
filling with the panic of birds, asking: What?
What if not this?”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“When the knock comes, it will knock
a certain reticence. It will leave
your door covered in white-knuckles.
And the windows will no longer breathe, they will die
like paintings. And you will no longer be
worrying the stars into meaning, they will already mean something”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
a certain reticence. It will leave
your door covered in white-knuckles.
And the windows will no longer breathe, they will die
like paintings. And you will no longer be
worrying the stars into meaning, they will already mean something”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“Wind against window—let the words fight it out—
As I try to remember: What is it
That’s so late in coming? What was it
I understood so well last night, so well it kissed me,
Sweetly, on the forehead?”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
As I try to remember: What is it
That’s so late in coming? What was it
I understood so well last night, so well it kissed me,
Sweetly, on the forehead?”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“Let's sort the injury from the injured,
Asking: What field? What battle?
Is this the site of your disaster?
An emergency room full of old friends.
Someone asking: Recollect, if you will,
A poem of Pindar's: That which above all
Shines through everything. Shines through
Each thing present all around.
Everything quietly unconcealing in the golden hospital
Light. Here's the chart, the anamnesis, of how and when
We want to kill each other, let each other die.
We, the living, breathe
Although we have lost old friends.
We have left them behind like dirty bandages.
We have left them ripped open, wide.
We've left rooms saying: Fuck you
And you and you.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
Asking: What field? What battle?
Is this the site of your disaster?
An emergency room full of old friends.
Someone asking: Recollect, if you will,
A poem of Pindar's: That which above all
Shines through everything. Shines through
Each thing present all around.
Everything quietly unconcealing in the golden hospital
Light. Here's the chart, the anamnesis, of how and when
We want to kill each other, let each other die.
We, the living, breathe
Although we have lost old friends.
We have left them behind like dirty bandages.
We have left them ripped open, wide.
We've left rooms saying: Fuck you
And you and you.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“She Was Just A Sketch
a thin girl under a thick sky
so thin, each rib stood
for something
something to which this great tenderness,
a mere irrational love
toward certain flowers
and trees,
could attach
—Olena Kalytiak Davis, from “Welcome to Lascaux,” And Her Soul Out of Nothing (University of Wisconsin Press, 1997)”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
a thin girl under a thick sky
so thin, each rib stood
for something
something to which this great tenderness,
a mere irrational love
toward certain flowers
and trees,
could attach
—Olena Kalytiak Davis, from “Welcome to Lascaux,” And Her Soul Out of Nothing (University of Wisconsin Press, 1997)”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“The Gauze of Flowers, A Love Poem”
Remember when we couldn’t name it
because it was a meadow
wild with tulips, both bright
as snow and dull as fire?
Driving in circles to find
the right spot for our love, then
using a chair? My heart was still
an artichoke, layered and prickly
But you kept making me nest my face
in that one thick bouquet.
And just this morning my love
was briefly stuck in my throat
as I remember all the soil
and sadness, remembered seeing you
on certain streets and corners, remembered
all the rubble and clang. Remember
how it is and isn’t fragile?
How it speaks in ears and fingers
takes days and hours still
it wants nothing and it wants more?
And just this morning
the flowers you brought home drank
in the sunrise, they fleshed themselves out
the way people do, shaking
the cold from their collars
as they move toward the fire,
rubbing together their hands, kindling
it back. Some days
we want our love to be fleshy.
But some days it’s transparent.
It’s like gauze.
It is and isn’t fragile.
I dare you to name it.
I dare you to remember
the rubble and clang.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
Remember when we couldn’t name it
because it was a meadow
wild with tulips, both bright
as snow and dull as fire?
Driving in circles to find
the right spot for our love, then
using a chair? My heart was still
an artichoke, layered and prickly
But you kept making me nest my face
in that one thick bouquet.
And just this morning my love
was briefly stuck in my throat
as I remember all the soil
and sadness, remembered seeing you
on certain streets and corners, remembered
all the rubble and clang. Remember
how it is and isn’t fragile?
How it speaks in ears and fingers
takes days and hours still
it wants nothing and it wants more?
And just this morning
the flowers you brought home drank
in the sunrise, they fleshed themselves out
the way people do, shaking
the cold from their collars
as they move toward the fire,
rubbing together their hands, kindling
it back. Some days
we want our love to be fleshy.
But some days it’s transparent.
It’s like gauze.
It is and isn’t fragile.
I dare you to name it.
I dare you to remember
the rubble and clang.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“Something More Fragile Than This"
Quick
before our bodies turn themselves in,
with a reverence reserved for the dead touch me
because I want to remember how beautiful I am.
While Spring snows around us, cracking her eggs
on our windows, in her meager dress of yellowing-white,
because I want to rise into today.
So why the urge to render something
more fragile than this?
Why, always, the soul blowing glass?
The soul, once again, filling the lungs
with smoke because a memory of regret sweats
in the plastic sleeve of a family
album. Because there’s a snapshot caught
between the pages of some thick book:
my heavy 20 year old frame setting off
the 60lb weight of a dying mother. Because
somewhere, there’s a negative slide
of my heart. Because and because and because
I’m sure there’s a photo
in some drawer that shows me dressed in black.
But I want to devote myself to the mystery
of this afternoon. I want to honor this falling night, worship the
hour vanishing
between six and seven. This moment
where I’m standing against myself and against you with a taste in my mouth
that’s yolk.
With Bob Marley taking that one long drag
on the refrigerator door.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
Quick
before our bodies turn themselves in,
with a reverence reserved for the dead touch me
because I want to remember how beautiful I am.
While Spring snows around us, cracking her eggs
on our windows, in her meager dress of yellowing-white,
because I want to rise into today.
So why the urge to render something
more fragile than this?
Why, always, the soul blowing glass?
The soul, once again, filling the lungs
with smoke because a memory of regret sweats
in the plastic sleeve of a family
album. Because there’s a snapshot caught
between the pages of some thick book:
my heavy 20 year old frame setting off
the 60lb weight of a dying mother. Because
somewhere, there’s a negative slide
of my heart. Because and because and because
I’m sure there’s a photo
in some drawer that shows me dressed in black.
But I want to devote myself to the mystery
of this afternoon. I want to honor this falling night, worship the
hour vanishing
between six and seven. This moment
where I’m standing against myself and against you with a taste in my mouth
that’s yolk.
With Bob Marley taking that one long drag
on the refrigerator door.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“The Gauze of Flowers, A Love Poem”
Remember when we couldn’t name it
because it was a meadow
wild with tulips, both bright
as snow and dull as fire?
Driving in circles to find
the right spot for our love, then
using a chair? My heart was still
an artichoke, layered and prickly
But you kept making me nest my face
in that one thick bouquet.
And just this morning my love
was briefly stuck in my throat
as I remember all the soil
and sadness, remembered seeing you
on certain streets and corners, remembered
all the rubble and clang. Remember
how it is and isn’t fragile?
How it speaks in ears and fingers
takes days and hours still
it wants nothing and it wants more?
And just this morning
the flowers you brought home drank
in the sunrise, they fleshed themselves out
the way people do, shaking
the cold from their collars
as they move toward the fire,
rubbing together their hands, kindling
it back. Some days
we want our love to be fleshy.
But some days it’s transparent.
It’s like gauze.
It is and isn’t fragile.
I dare you to name it.
I dare you to remember
the rubble and clang.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
Remember when we couldn’t name it
because it was a meadow
wild with tulips, both bright
as snow and dull as fire?
Driving in circles to find
the right spot for our love, then
using a chair? My heart was still
an artichoke, layered and prickly
But you kept making me nest my face
in that one thick bouquet.
And just this morning my love
was briefly stuck in my throat
as I remember all the soil
and sadness, remembered seeing you
on certain streets and corners, remembered
all the rubble and clang. Remember
how it is and isn’t fragile?
How it speaks in ears and fingers
takes days and hours still
it wants nothing and it wants more?
And just this morning
the flowers you brought home drank
in the sunrise, they fleshed themselves out
the way people do, shaking
the cold from their collars
as they move toward the fire,
rubbing together their hands, kindling
it back. Some days
we want our love to be fleshy.
But some days it’s transparent.
It’s like gauze.
It is and isn’t fragile.
I dare you to name it.
I dare you to remember
the rubble and clang.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“I thought: please don’t grow familiar. I think I said it out loud: Please don’t let me love you that horrible way. The”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
“You should bury more than the dead. You should try harder. You should give up.”
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
― And Her Soul Out Of Nothing
