Quotes from Simone Muench

We are ghosts in Victorian gowns, lilac apparitions with parasols…

after Neruda a bronze song, something undone, salvia, a crushed butterfly. It is the blood on a light bulb, the seventh sadness, a fluctuation that closes oceans and eyes. The vermilion and solitary luminary shimmies and singes the feathers of the aviary. Moon, the clock's word, dear mother, ruin, rain. — Simone Muench, "Elegy for the Unsaid," Lampblack & Ash: Poems . (Sarabande Books; First Edition edition November 1, 2005)

I am electric.

I began just writing poems and then fell in love with the form.