Your hair is lost in the forest,
your feet touching mine.
Asleep you are bigger than the night,
but your dream fits within this room.
How much we are who are so little!
Outside a taxi passes
with its load of ghosts.
The river that runs by
Will tomorrow be another day?
Octavio Paz, from The Collected Poems of Octavio Paz, 1957-1987 (New Directions, 1987)
"This one’s now for July. This one’s now for August. This one’s now in the wave pool, buoyed by the chlorine and sense of possibility, as if the water were in me and churning and could this feeling last forever and that seagull, you don’t have to think. Sometimes you have to be shot in the heart in order to stop dreaming."
Thomas Heise, from Moth; or how i came to be with you again (Sarabande Books, 2013)