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Quote by Ari Banias

“That we imagine we cannot feel the wars is an American feeling. That we cannot see them, that we say they are somewhere else. But someone pays the police. We do.”

Quote by Ari Banias

Book:Anybody: Poems
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Anybody: Poems

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Ari Banias

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“TWO VOICES I own the dawn! the cockerel claims. The light still loiters with intent to take the night. Wind steals through woods, the democratic dew gives equal weight to everything. A few blank seconds and he starts again. He yawns and voice possesses him. I own all dawns! I stand on dignity! he shouts out, shut in the dark kingdom of his one-room flat. More pained possessive crazed each time he crows he has to wrench his larynx, curl his claws to let that shout surge through him. Glancing out I notice nothing answers except light, whose answer makes the earth's hairs stand on end and shadows fall full-length without a sound. What is the word for wordless, when the ground bursts into crickets? There's a creaking sound like speaking speeded up. A skeleton crawls across leaves, still in its cramped position. one minute stooping on a bending blade rubbing its painful elbows, next minute made of pinged elastic, flying hypertense, speaking in several languages at once. not like a mouth might speak, more like two hands make whispered contact through their finger-ends, like light itself which absent-mindedly brushes the grass and speaks by letting be, but when you duck down suddenly and stare into the startled stems, there's nothing there.”

PoemAlice OswaldFalling Awake
Book:Falling Awake
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“In his room, scanning through the poetry book for one to read in class, Tate found a poem by Thomas Moore: ... she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see, And her paddle I soon shall hear; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of death is near. The words made him think of Kya, Jodie's little sister. She'd seemed so small and alone in the marsh's big sweep. He imagined his own sister lost out there. His dad was right- poems made you feel something.”

PoemRelatableFireflyLampThomas MooreFeel SomethingLonely Girl
Book:Where the Crawdads Sing
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