#AmericanWriters
Because he dreams of seeding the w… his eyes bite She looks He looks away He is snow-blind from staring at her breasts
Smoke, it is all smoke in the throat of eternity. . . . For centuries, the air was full of… Whistling up chimneys on their spiky brooms
Now, moving in, cartons on the flo… the radio playing to bare walls, picture hooks left stranded in the unsoiled squares where pain… and something reminding us
. .Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart when… and tangled in a woman’s body? —Virginia Woolf Every month,
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,
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.
"...a frozen memory, like any p… where nothing is missing, not even… and especially, nothingness..."… —Julio Cortázar, “Blow Up” Mirror-mad,
If God is a dog drowsing, contemplating the quintessential dogginess of the universe, of the whole canine race, why are we
The decorum of fire... —Pablo Neruda We learned the decorum of fire, the flame’s curious symmetry, the blue heat at the center of the…
Your slit so like mine: the woman of it, the warm womanwide of thigh, & the comfort of it– knowing your nipples like mine,
You gave me a rose last time we met. I told myself if it bloomed our love would bloom,
In the redwood house sailing off into the ocean, I sleep with you– our dreams mingling, our breath coming & going
Living in a house near the Black Forest, without any clocks, she’s begun to listen to the walls.
I pass to the other side of the pa… —Pablo Neruda On the other side of the page where the last days go, where the lost poems go,
I love to go to sleep, When bed takes me like a lover wrapping my limbs in cool linen, soothing the fretfulness