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Dana Gioia
Quote #7
We are not as we were. Death has been our pentecost.
More from Dana Gioia
This is a prayer, inchoate and unfinished, for you, my love, my loss, my lesion, a rosary of words to count out time's illusions, all the m…
My blessed California, you are so wise. You render death abstract, efficient, clean. Your afterlife is only real estate, And in his kingdom…
Yet the stones remain less real to those who cannot name them, or read the mute syllables graven in silica. To see a red stone is less than…
'We lived in places that we never knew. We could not name the birds perched on our sill, Or see the trees we cut down for our view. What we…
Twisting through the thorn-thick underbrush, scratched and exhausted, one turns suddenly to find an unexpected waterfall, not half a mile f…
'Teach us the names of what we have destroyed.'
The music that of common speech but slanted so that each detail sounds unexpected as a sharp inserted in a simple scale.
This is not work but a kind of workmanship. First out of paper, then from the body. To provoke thought into form, molded according to a mea…
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