#Americans #Jews #Women
If it is impossible to promise absolute fidelity, this is because we learn so much geography from the shifting of one body
Spring, rainbows, ordinary miracles about which nothing new can be said. The stars on a clear night
Because you did, I too arrange fl… Watching the pistils just like ins… And the hard, red flesh of the pet… Widening beneath my eyes. They mo… Of clocks, seeming not to move exc…
Ash falls on the roof of my house. I have cursed you enough in the lines of my poems & between them,
It used to be hard for women, snowed in their white lives, white lies, to write books
A delicate border. A nonexistent… The train obligingly dissolves in… The G.I. next to me is talking wa… I don’t ‘know the Asian mind,’ he… Moving through old arguments.
When the devil brings him, like a Christmas puppy, examine his downy fur & smell his small paws for the scent of sulphur.
With his head full of Shakespeare… and old notions of poetic justice, he was ready with his elegies the day the ocean sailed into the… ‘The sea,’ he wrote, 'is a forgivi…
I sit at home at my desk alone as I used to do on many sunday afternoons when you came back to me,
Sweet muse with bitter milk, I have lain between your breasts, put my ear
(a flip through BRIDE’s) The silver spoons were warbling their absurd musical names when, drawing back
He says he is a perfect poet. He lives alone, with his perfect m… & sometimes they don’t even sp… So perfectly do they ‘communicate.… He lives alone, his greatest pleas…
In Autumn, as in Spring, the sap flows, the sap wishes to race against heartbeats
Testing the soul’s mettle, the frost heaves holes in the roads to the heart, the glass forest
Sometimes the poem doesn’t want to come; it hides from the poet like a playful cat who has run