Ars Poetica

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so much depends upon a red wheelbarrow.
if i can tell you one thing, it is this: your story will begin with a knucklebone.
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ars poetica
34
what do we do when we are dying?
because you too are not so unlike these trees. it would be easy to say that this is because you are alive— but no, it is because you are also dying.
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ars poetica
14
can a poem save a life?
to suggest that a poem can save a life is to first imply an understanding of what constitutes a life that requires saving.
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ars poetica
31
one might still offer even to the betrayed world a rose.
living seems to me to be something like this— less an act of figuring out 'how' and more an act of realising 'oh yes'.
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ars poetica
37
a rainbow does nothing.
but you can still be weak before it: a caretaker of silence, a connoisseur of stillness, a listener of wind.
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ars poetica
26
distrust everything if you have to. but trust the hours. haven’t they carried you everywhere, up to now?
it’s the dream of all poems, and the text of all loves: Tenderness toward Existence.
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ars poetica
23
because all this mess grief makes, it makes with love.
there are particular places things go when they are taken from us— the tip of our tongue and the back of our mind— where storage is easy, but retrieval…
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ars poetica
27
Ars Poetica
Ars Poetica
you are not an unspectacular thing. love@arspoetica.com.au
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