hey, psycheI learned there’s nothing more shaming
or as memorable as an intimacy
unreturned. And turned, therefore,
to the expected silence of a page,
where I might simultaneously assert
and hide, be my own disappointment,
which saved me for a while.
But soon the page whispered
I’d mistaken its vastness for a refuge,
its whiteness for a hospital
for the pathetic. Fill me up, it said,
give me sorrow because I must have joy,
all the travails of love because
distances are where the safe reside.
Bring to me, it said, continual proof
you’ve been alive.
from "Turning to the Page," by Stephen Dunn
Then suddenly something came flopping down by the side of the prince’s bed.Otto Sinding, from Fairy tales from the far North, by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen, London, 1897.
And so it seemed to me one night earlier this year that out of nowhere a vicious dark bird descended upon me in my bed …
