#AmericanWriters
Little egg, little nub, full complement of fingers, toes, little rose blooming
Old bag of bones upside down, what are you searching for in poetry, in meditation?
I mourn a dead friend, like myself… —Pablo Neruda about César Vallej… I looked at the book. ‘It will stand,’ I thought. Not a palace
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
This constant ache is my leg’s message to me. ‘Hello. Hello. Hello. You’re getting there,' it says, ‘step by step.’
For all those who died– stripped naked, shaved, shorn. For all those who screamed in vain to the Great Goddess only to have their tongues
After the first astounding rush, after the weeks at the lake, the crystal, the clouds, the water… the snow breaking under our boots… & the long mornings in bed. .…
In the chest is caged bat who seeks escape through the mouth. He flaps his wings & the molars shiver.
We used to strike sparks off each other. Our eyes would meet or our hands, & the blue lightning of love
I began by loving women & the love turned to bitterness. My mother, the bitter, whose bitter lesson–
For Jennifer Josephy On cold days it is easy to be reasonable, to button the mouth against kisses… dust the breasts
She was not a slender woman, but her skin was milk mixed in with strawberry jam & between her legs the word pu… & her hair was the color of wh…
On the first night of the full moon, the primeval sack of ocean broke, & I gave birth to you
You-the purest pleasure of my life, the split pit that proves the ripeness of the fruit,
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