To Be Seen Without Performing. To Be Heard Without Screaming. To Be Missed Without Disappearing. To Be

-Anaïs Nin, 1939

Shen Yueh, translated by Kenneth Rexroth, from "Farewell to Fan Yun at an Ch'eng,"

Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959 (my translation)

APRIL FOOL 1959 Anne Sexton: A Self-Portrait in Letters First published: 1977

Clarissa Pinkola Estés, from  “Women who Run with the Wolves,” published in 1992

Franz Kafka, from a letter to Milena Jesenka featured in "Letters to Milena,

Sometimes it feels like a lie to call myself a poet --

The world is a gorgeous, ethereal place --

All I've ever done is, do my best to use what little words I have to tell you what my eyes have happened to see, and, what my heart has happened to feel.

I'm just another of life's many plagiarists --

Stealing experiences for myself and pretending they're words born from my soul --

So what's the term, then, when the universe's machinations bring me across someone like you, and my heart is filled with so many words that I could write a thousand novels?

A poet?

A thief?

Or simply a woman with a mind, taken, filled to the brim by chance, with desire, need, and affection?

"Could you even describe the warmth of a glowing moon?" V. Rue, 2025.

Bande à part (1964), dir. Jean-Luc Godard