#AmericanWriters
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…
You gave me the child that seamed my belly & stitched up my life. You gave me: one book of love poem… five years of peace
The lover in these poems is me; the doctor, Love. He appears
People who live by the sea understand eternity. They copy the curves of the waves, their hearts beat with the tides, & the saltiness of their blood
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 glass-bottomed boat of our lives, we putter along gazing at the other world under the sea– that world of flickering
Because my grandmother’s hours were apple cakes baking, & dust motes gathering, & linens yellowing & seams and hems
(a flip through BRIDE’s) The silver spoons were warbling their absurd musical names when, drawing back
Looking for a place where we might turn off the inner dialogue, the monologue of futures & regrets,
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…
. .Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart when… and tangled in a woman’s body? —Virginia Woolf Every month,
Could I unthink you, little heart, what would I do? throw you out with last night’s garbage,
Here, at the end of the world, the flowers bleed as if they were hearts, the hearts ooze a darkness like india ink,
Sweet muse with bitter milk, I have lain between your breasts, put my ear
In the chest is caged bat who seeks escape through the mouth. He flaps his wings & the molars shiver.