#Americans #Jews #Women
Boswell– you old rake– I have tri… your style; but it is no use; my d… all between my selves: and though… make endless notes and jottings th… my memory– it is in vain– for in t…
Love, death, sleeping with somebody else’s husband or wife-this is what poetry is about-Eskimo, Aztec,
The lessons we learned here (fumbling with our lunchbags, handkerchiefs & secret cheeks of bubblegum) were graver than any
There is only one story: he loved her, then stopped loving her, while she did not stop loving him.
You open to me a little, then grow afraid and close again, a small boy
Kabir says the breath inside the breath is God & I say to Kabir you are the breath inside that bre…
Exploring each other’s depths, that surge of connection which makes the world seem sane,
Bobbing in the waters of the womb, little godhead, ten toes, ten fing… & infinite hope, sails upside down through the worl… My bones, I know, are only a cage
If it is only for the taking off– the velvet cloak, the ostrich feather boa, the dress which slithers to the fl… with the sound of strange men sigh…
Testing the soul’s mettle, the frost heaves holes in the roads to the heart, the glass forest
A bespectacled artist called Lear First perfected this smile in a sn… He was clever and witty; He gave life to this ditty - That original author called Lear.
This is the dirty laundry poem– because we have traveled from town… accumulating soiled linen & sw… & blue-jeans caked & clott… & teeshirts crumpled by our gl…
Narrowing life because of the fear… narrowing it between the dust mote… narrowing the pink baby between the green-limbed monsters, & the drooling idiots,
Handcuffed by time, I travel across this broad beautiful America– mesas, deserts, peaks with clouds caught
When I am an old lady the young men will come to me & sit trembling at my trembling