Jan 10
January by Charles Simic
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January by Charles Simic
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Stone
Go inside a stone That would be my way. Let somebody else become a dove Or gnash with a tiger’s tooth. I am happy to be a stone. From the outside the stone is a riddle: No one knows how to answer it. Yet within, it must be cool and quiet Even though a cow steps on it full weight, Even though a child throws it in a river, The stone sinks, slow, unperturbed To the river bottom Where the fishes come to knock on it And listen. I have seen sparks fly out When two stones are rubbed. So perhaps it is not dark inside after all; Perhaps there is a moon shining From somewhere, as though behind a hill — Just enough light to make out The strange writings, the star charts On the inner walls.
Charles Simic (1938-2023) New and Selected Poems 1962-2012, 2013
To Boredom
by Charles Simic
I’m the child of your rainy Sundays. I watched time crawl Over the ceiling Like a wounded fly. A day would last forever, Making pellets of bread, Waiting for a branch On a bare tree to move. The silence would deepen, The sky would darken, As Grandmother knitted With a ball of black yarn. I know Heaven’s like that. In eternity’s classrooms, The angels sit like bored children With their heads bowed.
Charles Simic
My sorceress is what I call her.
CHARLES SIMIC — A Wedding in Hell, (1994)
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Fear by Charles Simic (1938-2023)
"The highest levels of consciousness are wordless."
Charles Simic, The Monster Loves His Labyrinth: Notebooks
Simic, Charles and Linda Connor. On the Music of the Spheres. New York: Library Fellows of the Whitney Museum of American Art, 1996. Limited Edition .