“How you die out in me:down to the lastworn-out knot of breathyou're there, with a splinter of life.”

“out of a shardstrewnmadnessI stand upand look upon my hand,how it draws the oneand onlycircle”

“Reality is not simply there, it does not simply exist: it must be sought out and won.”

“Speak you too,speak as the last,say out your say.Speak-But don’t split off No from Yes.Give your say this meaning too:Give it the shadow.Give it shadow enough,Give it as muchAs you know is spread round you fromMidnight to midday and midnight.Look around:See how things all come alive-By death! Alive!Speaks true who speaks shadow.But now the place shrinks, where you stand:Where now, shadow-stripped, where?Climb. Grope upwards.Thinner you grow, less knowable, finer!Finer: a threadThe star wants to descend on:So as to swim down beliow, down hereWhere it sees itself shimmer:in the swellOf wandering words.”

“Illegibilityof this world. All things twice over.The strong clocks justifythe splitting hour,hoarsely.You , clampedinto your deepest part,climb out of yourselffor ever.”

“Über die Ferne der finsteren Flurenhebt mich mein Stern in dein schwärmendes Blut.Nicht mehr am Weh, das wir beide erfuhren,rätselt, der leicht in der Dämmerung ruht.Wie soll er, Süße, dich betten und wiegen,daß seine Seele das Schlummerlied krönt?Nirgends, wo Traum ist und Liebende liegen,hat je ein Schweigen so seltsam getönt.Nun, wenn nur Wimpern die Stunden begrenzen,tut sich das Leben der Dunkelheit kund.Schließe, Geliebte, die Augen, die glänzen.Nichts mehr sei Welt als dein schimmernder Mund.”

“A poem, as a manifestation of language and thus essentially dialogue, can be a message in a bottle, sent out in the –not always greatly hopeful-belief that somewhere and sometime it could wash up on land, on heartland perhaps. Poems in this sense too are under way: they are making toward something. Toward what? Toward something standing open, occupiable, perhaps toward an addressable Thou, toward an addressable reality.”