Author Archives: elisabethwithaness

About elisabethwithaness

Writing out loud at Apropos of Nothing

Softness

Posted on May 23, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

I want to write about softness, about how things can be soft and hard all at once, like your cock last night. And again this morning. Also, I want to write about how the hardest things can bring softness. Like … Continue reading →

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Translating Neruda (Agua Sexual)

Posted on May 5, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

I share my hometown (Temuco, Chile) with beloved Chilean poet, Pablo Neruda. Although Neruda died in 1973, when I was just a wee girl, still, I like to think that Neruda and I drank of the same water, breathed the same … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Things that make me bow | Tagged , | 5 Comments

I like you when you are quiet

Posted on April 4, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

This morning, apropos of nothing better to do —which is not to say there aren’t many things to do, just, no thing better than translating some favorite lines of verse— I bring you my translation of Pablo Neruda’s Sonnet 15 … Continue reading →

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skirt basket

Posted on February 19, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

I carried the yard in you —pebble stick bone moss cone feather string and stone— and what I could carry in you was nothing less than the world to me up and up and up the mountain bend and bend … Continue reading →

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Variations on a theme: Away

Posted on January 6, 2013 by elisabethwithaness

Quite possibly we came together, he and I, not just for Leonard Cohen, not just for assumption-shattering sex, not just for conversations, hands on the back, and whispers in the dark, all of which have made me magnificently bigger. Quite … Continue reading →

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From now on, only music you like

Posted on December 2, 2012 by elisabethwithaness

On Friday I saw Harold. He will be 80 in March. He’s a physicist and an emeritus professor and that’s not his real name or field. (Other than those 2 details, what follows is true). Harold had gotten my postcard … Continue reading →

Posted in Things that make me bow | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Stallion

Posted on November 19, 2012 by elisabethwithaness

Sometimes gazing out into the universe —at a night sky, say— takes me in and in and in, just as looking in on the world of dreams and thoughts, takes me infinitely out. Oh Longing, my life feels too tight … Continue reading →

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Writing out loud

Posted on November 6, 2012 by elisabethwithaness

You latch the door. It’s your first time in the office of your new house on the floor. Leonard Cohen’s Jukebox Playlist is playing: Joni Mitchell could drink a case of you, Fats Domino found his thrill on Blueberry Hill, … Continue reading →

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