#Americans #Jews #Women
Love, death, sleeping with somebody else’s husband or wife-this is what poetry is about-Eskimo, Aztec,
Not wanting to write for fear that anything– the passion for the page, the love of carbon ribbons & e… will distract me from your face,
I hear you will not fall in love w… because I come without a guarantee… because someday I may depart at wh… and leave you desolate, abandoned,… If that’s the case, what use to be…
When the devil brings him, like a Christmas puppy, examine his downy fur & smell his small paws for the scent of sulphur.
At dusk Demeter becomes afraid for baby Persephone lost in that hell which she herself created
On a darkening planet speeding toward our death, we pierce a rosy cloud & hit clean air,
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…
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,
We have a small sculpture of H… Nothing would surprise him. The beast in the jungle was what h… Edith Wharton’s obfuscating older… He fled the demons
Already six years past your age! The steps in Rome, the house near Hampstead Heath, & all your fears that you might cease to be
I am in love with my womb & jealous of it. I cover it tenderly with a little pink hat (a sort of yarmulke)
What is the central passion of a life? To please mummy & daddy? To find a home for their furniture… To found a family of one’s own,
The house of the body is a stately manor open for nothing never to the public. But
At the furthermost reach of the se… where Atlantis sinks under the wak… I have come to heal my life. I knit together like a broken arm. The salt fills the crevices of bon…
After the teach-in we smeared the walls with our solidarity, looked left, & saw Marx among the angels,