These beautifully grown men. Thes… Look at them looking! They’re overdrawn on all accounts… & they’ve missed (for the hundredth time) the expre…

If it is impossible to promise absolute fidelity, this is because we learn so much geography from the shifting of one body

We used to strike sparks off each other. Our eyes would meet or our hands, & the blue lightning of love

Endless duplication of lives and o… —Theodore Roethke I have known the imperial power of… the awesome indifference of recept… I have been intimidated by desk &a…

With his head full of Shakespeare… and old notions of poetic justice, he was ready with his elegies the day the ocean sailed into the… ‘The sea,’ he wrote, 'is a forgivi…

All over the district, on leather… & brocade couches, on daybeds & ‘professional divans,’ they… The air is thick with it, the ears of analysts must be stick…

My broom with its tufts of roses beckoning at the black, with its crown of thistles, prickling the sky,

You are the first muse who came to… The others began & ended with… or a glance or a kiss between stan… the others strode away in the poin… or were kicked out by the stiletto…

What makes a poet? Many have tried to guess. Is it a voice like a conduit, a plainspokenness to grief,

In Autumn, as in Spring, the sap flows, the sap wishes to race against heartbeats

I had pegged you as protégé, adoptee, someone I could save. The last thing I needed

When the devil brings him, like a Christmas puppy, examine his downy fur & smell his small paws for the scent of sulphur.

All the boring tedious young men with dead eyes & dirty hair .… all the mad young men who hate the… all the squalling baby boys . . . have grown up