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The Sun Magazine

Sy Safransky's Notebook

May 1994

Perfect Rooms

The language is so much bigger than I am, so much older, more beautiful. How can I hope to tame it, cram it into a style?

February 1980

On The Run

Most of what I write is fragmentary: notes on the run, sketchy maps to carry me back to subconscious treasure-chests, or a line “from” a poem, left on the page like one sock in the laundromat.

June 1992

The Map I Was Promised

Things I didn’t get to last week: answering the mail, giving up coffee, saving the planet.

November 1992

Bent to the task of reconstruction, this endless need to improve myself, no less intense at forty-seven than at seventeen. My serious plans, shining like new cars on the dusty lot.

June 1993

Another Coincidence

Not enough time for the poem. But the poem staggers to its feet, wipes its face on the dirty towel, remembers it lives here too, remembers it needs no invitation.