Marie Howe (born 1950 Rochester, New York) is an American poet. Her most recent poetry collection is Magdalene (W.W. Norton, 2017). In August 2012 she was named the State Poet for New York.
Poetry holds the knowledge that we are alive and that we know we're going to die.
Memory is a poet, not an historian.
When we think we have something to say we are usually wrong. We are fooling ourselves. Trip into discovery. Don't write what you know, discover something new.
We tell each other stories to help each other live. That’s why I read poetry. I read poetry to stay alive. That’s why I went to poetry in the first place, that’s why I stay with it, that’s why I’ll never leave it.
Bedeviled, human, your plight, in waking, is to choose from the words that even now sleep on your tongue, and to know that tangled among them and terribly new is the sentence that could change your life.
But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, say, the window of the corner video store, and I'm gripped by a cherishing so deep for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I'm speechless: I am living. I remember you.
Without devotion any life becomes a stranger's story. . . told for the body to forget what it once loved.
I am living. I remember you.
Poetry is telling something to someone.
Every poem holds the unspeakable inside it. The unsayable. . . The thing that you can't really say because it's too complicated. It's too complex for us. Every poem has that silence deep in the center of it.
Each of us suffers with envyfor the forgiven.
A traitor commits his crime but once. The restis retribution.