“The Something" Here come my night thoughts On crutches, Returning from studying the heavens. What they thought about Stayed the same, Stayed immense and incomprehensible. My mother and father smile at each other Knowingly above the mantel. The cat sleeps… — Charles Simic Copy Share Image
“Lyric poets are always corrupting the young, making them choke in self-pity and indulge in reverie. Dirty sex and direspect for authority is what… — Charles Simic Copy Share
“There’s a book called “A Dictionary of Angels.” No one has opened it in fifty years, I know, because when I did, The covers… — Charles Simic Copy Share
Poetry is an orphan of silence. The words never quite equal the experience behind them. — Charles Simic Copy Share
“The truth is dark under your eyelids. What are you going to do about it? The birds are silent; there's no one to ask.… — Charles Simic Copy Share
In their effort to divorce language and experience, deconstructionist critics remind me of middle-class parents who do not allow their children to play in… — Charles Simic Copy Share
“The ambition of much of today's literary theory seems to be to find ways to read literature without imagination.” — Charles Simic Copy Share
“The Something" Here come my night thoughts On crutches, Returning from studying the heavens. What they thought about Stayed the same, Stayed immense and… — Charles Simic Copy Share
There are knives that glitter like altars In a dark church Where they bring the cripple and the imbecile To be healed. There's a… — Charles Simic Copy Share
“هندوانه بودای سبز بر پیشخوان میوه فروش لبخندش را گاز میزنیم و دندانهایش را تف میکنیم :: Watermelons Green Buddhas On the fruit stand. We eat the smile And spit out the teeth.” — Charles Simic Copy Share
Words make love on the page like flies in the summer heat and the poet is only the bemused spectator. — Charles Simic Copy Share
“The idea is to spin the wheel of metaphors and images until sparks of associations begin to fly for the reader.” — Charles Simic Copy Share
Found objects, chance creations, ready-mades (mass-produced items promoted into art objects, such as Duchamp's "Fountain"-urinal as sculpture) abolish the separation between art and life.… — Charles Simic Copy Share
The plain truth is we are going to die. Here I am, a teeny spec surrounded by boundless space and time, arguing with the… — Charles Simic Copy Share
