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Poetry Foundation
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As children raised by strawberries, we were probably unaware that the gift of berries was from the fields themselves, not from us. Our gift was time and attention and care and red-stained fingers. Heart berries, indeed.
Robin Wall Kimmerer • Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants
The muse and angel come from outside us: the angel gives lights, and the muse gives forms (Hesiod learned from her). Loaf of gold or tunic fold: the poet receives forms in his grove of laurel. But one must awaken the duende in the remotest mansions of the blood.
Federico García Lorca • In Search of Duende
grief, like a welcome rainstorm on parched sand, is not an illness, but a primordial institution of the human soul.
Martín Prechtel • The Smell of Rain on Dust: Grief and Praise
una erótica de (des)composición y una sensibilidad conceptual de una imaginación en movimiento desde las mapas freáticas del desierto donde crié mi amor por lo imperceptible.
val flores, labiar el desierto, p.15
How to Be a Poet by Wendell Berry | Poetry Magazine
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