#Americans #Jews #Women
All night he lies awake tuning the… tuning the night with its fat crac… with its melancholy love songs cro… across the rainy air above Verdun & the autobahn’s blue suicidal…
Again & again I have read your books without ever wishing to know you. I suck the alphabet of blood. I chew the iron filings of your wo…
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…
Nobody believes in love– not even me. Love is the thing you wait to end.
The house of the body is a stately manor open for nothing never to the public. But
Love, death, sleeping with somebody else’s husband or wife-this is what poetry is about-Eskimo, Aztec,
Regret is the young girl who sits… & stares at her hands. They are bluer than shadows in sno… They are bloodless as fear. Her fingernail moons are white.
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
You operate on the afternoon You perform open heart surgery on the ghosts of your suicidal friends You divorce your parents
Narrowing life because of the fear… narrowing it between the dust mote… narrowing the pink baby between the green-limbed monsters, & the drooling idiots,
You gave me a rose last time we met. I told myself if it bloomed our love would bloom,
Baby-witch, my daughter, my worship of the Goddess alone condemns you to the fire. . .
Because she wants to touch him, she moves away. Because she wants to talk to him, she keeps silent. Because she wants to kiss him,
‘Why do you have stripes in your forehead, Mama? Are you
This is the long tunnel of wanting… Its walls are lined with remembere… wet & red as the inside of you… full & juicy as your probing t… warm as your belly against mine,