As for me, I can explain nothing, but stammer with the fire that burns inside me, and the life that has been bestowed on me. Lorca
It is no mistake that what bears us up has the power to draw us underâ€”and the melody of either sphere can deflower the heart with pitiless persuasion. We are always stringed things waiting to vibrate.
Do angels lick their lips in the full-heat of noonday or shudder as the clouds pass over the sun? Yes, is the only word they know when the hems of their robes are singed and their feet become ash.
Still they ascend and descend, heavily winged and hovering in sublime indifference. Which is why
Yes, is the word I most like to hear you speak. When you say it, I know I will wait for your next call. . . .
I am standing now and lifting my arms to the sun, arching my back and tilting toward the shadows.