#Americans #Jews #Women
On the first night of the full moon, the primeval sack of ocean broke, & I gave birth to you
It used to be hard for women, snowed in their white lives, white lies, to write books
You are the first muse who came to… The others began & ended with… or a glance or a kiss between stan… the others strode away in the poin… or were kicked out by the stiletto…
At the furthermost reach of the se… where Atlantis sinks under the wak… I have come to heal my life. I knit together like a broken arm. The salt fills the crevices of bon…
Living in a house near the Black Forest, without any clocks, she’s begun to listen to the walls.
He was six foot four, and forty… and even colder than he thought he… James Thurber, The Thirteen Cloc… Not that I cared about the other… Those perfumed breasts with hearts
Letting the mind go, letting the pen, the breath, the movement of images in & ou… of the mouth go calm, go rhythmic
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…
‘Hotel rooms constitute a separate… —Tom Stoppard A bed, a telephone, the cord to the world beyond the womb . . .
Sweet muse with bitter milk, I have lain between your breasts, put my ear
Rising in the morning like warm bread, from a bed in America, the aroma
Nature will bear the closest inspe… —Thoreau The raspberries in my driveway have always
The man giving birth in the dark has died & come back to life again, is stretching out his arms
When the devil brings him, like a Christmas puppy, examine his downy fur & smell his small paws for the scent of sulphur.
What makes a poet? Many have tried to guess. Is it a voice like a conduit, a plainspokenness to grief,