All over the district, on leather… & brocade couches, on daybeds & ‘professional divans,’ they… The air is thick with it, the ears of analysts must be stick…

Already six years past your age! The steps in Rome, the house near Hampstead Heath, & all your fears that you might cease to be

In the redwood house sailing off into the ocean, I sleep with you– our dreams mingling, our breath coming & going

For a long time unhappy with my man, I blamed men, blamed marriage, blamed the whole bleeding world,

We used to meet on this corner in the same wind. It fought us up the hill to your house,

When I am an old lady the young men will come to me & sit trembling at my trembling

If you ask him he will talk for ho… how at fourteen he hammered signs,… raw with cold, and later painted b… in ladies’ boudoirs; how he played… for two weeks in jail, and lived o…

Mute marriages: the ten-ton block of ice obstructing the throat, the heart, the red filter of the liver, the clogged life.

Love, death, sleeping with somebody else’s husband or wife-this is what poetry is about-Eskimo, Aztec,

My love is too much– it embarrasses you– blood, poems, babies, red needs that telephone from foreign countries,

Not wanting to write for fear that anything– the passion for the page, the love of carbon ribbons & e… will distract me from your face,

If God is a dog drowsing, contemplating the quintessential dogginess of the universe, of the whole canine race, why are we

The lover in these poems is me; the doctor, Love. He appears

Handcuffed by time, I travel across this broad beautiful America– mesas, deserts, peaks with clouds caught