Entrance (live, Stanford)
Maria Hummel reading “Entrance” live at Stanford University, November 2, 2005.
Maria Hummel
Solstice
Someone is turning the light down on the world moths go mad with the lack of desire people forget to waken but all it takes is somewhere a yellow field a boy chucking stones at a nest of wasps and the black alphabet unscrolls from its […]
Letter to Cain
I could say certain things and you’d know what I mean: ground that does not sink to the boot–– although it is green, although rain falls continuously on it––cold limbs battering the air, and no ice yet. You’d know what I mean if I said we are between. Between seasons, yes, but also between […]
Heimweh
I used to think if I overcame this sadness I would have nothing left but particulars, a way of saying the word mountain, a habit of carting sweaters everywhere, and memories of the last day of winter, its bareness on the wind and white snow sailing over the green grass, burying it with such delicacy […]
Fear of Wonder
I want to be the people in the architect’s model faceless shapely always striding beside the brilliant walls girders machines halls the architect wants us to notice but he can’t show empty because then we won’t see ourselves within it just as we don’t acknowledge the cliff edge until sneakers stubbed against stone we fight […]
Aubade
I have grown used to your second departures, after the car is already thrumming in the driveway, but the checkbook, the wallet perches on the back of the couch, and you must charge in for it again, the cold reaching through the open door, the intensity of geese just as they sweep the earth, […]