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To leave this world a wiser place than which I found it.

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“I catch up:
each night, now, I must capture one taste, one touch, one vision from the ruck of the day’s garbage. How all this life would vanish, evaporate, if I didn’t clutch at it, cling to it, while I still remember some twinge or glory.” -Sylvia Plath

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Feb
11

“There are no plurals, only chance or temporary agglomerations. The only plural forms are what Wallace Stevens—plural himself, as you might think—referred to as “functionaries” or “hacks,” and Lou Reed as “jim-jims.” As the world shrinks and grows, there is only one thing: be singular.”

Manifesto of the Flying Mallet by Michael Hofmann  : Poetry Magazine

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