#Americans #Jews #Women
You-the purest pleasure of my life, the split pit that proves the ripeness of the fruit,
You open to me a little, then grow afraid and close again, a small boy
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…
Letting the mind go, letting the pen, the breath, the movement of images in & ou… of the mouth go calm, go rhythmic
Ash falls on the roof of my house. I have cursed you enough in the lines of my poems & between them,
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…
. .Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart when… and tangled in a woman’s body? —Virginia Woolf Every month,
For a long time unhappy with my man, I blamed men, blamed marriage, blamed the whole bleeding world,
the sky sinks its blue teeth into the mountains. Rising on pure will (the lurch & lift-off, the sudden swing
I am not interested in my body– the part that stinks & rots & brings forth life,
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
I love to go to sleep, When bed takes me like a lover wrapping my limbs in cool linen, soothing the fretfulness
Nobody believes in love– not even me. Love is the thing you wait to end.
You operate on the afternoon You perform open heart surgery on the ghosts of your suicidal friends You divorce your parents
Smoke, it is all smoke in the throat of eternity. . . . For centuries, the air was full of… Whistling up chimneys on their spiky brooms