We have to say it in a way that will delight the ear or the tongue or the mind of a reader who will never know us. It’s the only way in. And to do that, we have to be capable of imagining that reader, imagining them wholly, gassy and distracted by their phone and worried about the news and late to pick up their son from ballet.
Kaveh Akbar in conversation with Danez Smith for Granta. Both poets are shortlisted for the Forward Prizes for Poetry 2018.
Photo: Birbiglebug/CC BY-SA 4.0
the eyes are not reliable.
not windows. not mirrors.my ears have eroded,
leaving two broken telephones.
“what i told the doctor”
Sabrina Benaim, from her new book Depression & Other Magic Tricks
A sentence like a punch.
From Sheryl Lunas “Neighbors Smoke on an Apartment Porch Owned by a Mental Health Agency” Poetry Magazine, January 2018
“Room for a Counter Interior”
It’s all about balance. Without my writing, I would feel very isolated. The world is such a beautiful and complex place, and science only has limited access to its wonders. Science is dominated by strict rules which preclude emotions, and I would never allow my emotions to influence my research. So, to balance out my life, I write fiction and take photographs.
What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?
The world would split open.
Went out to buy a book by the new Nobel Laureate Kazuo Ishiguro, bought the new rupi kaur “The Sun and Her Flowers” instead. I’m fine with that.
[…] we have offered up our
mortally wounded, un-
comprehending remembrance.
We look down or away
and notice the impassive
grass under our bloody weight.
I was given nothing but the air, and the air dazzled.
Books are door-shaped
portals
carrying me
across oceans
and centuries,
helping me feel
less alone.
