#AmericanWriters
Unable to bear the uncertainty of the future, we consulted seers, mediums, stock market gurus,
Bobbing in the waters of the womb, little godhead, ten toes, ten fing… & infinite hope, sails upside down through the worl… My bones, I know, are only a cage
The women he has had are all faces without eyes. He has entered them blind as a cut worm. He has swum their oceans
Broken ivories playing the blue piano of the sea. We have come
There is a white wood house near… in whose garden the nightingale st… Though Keats is dead, the bird wh… returns with melodies, on easeful… A lock of hair the poet’s love rec…
I had pegged you as protégé, adoptee, someone I could save. The last thing I needed
Sweet muse with bitter milk, I have lain between your breasts, put my ear
Most beautiful of poisons, border-plant, wearing your small green cowl, little friar, little murderer, aconitine flows
Little egg, little nub, full complement of fingers, toes, little rose blooming
After the college reading, the eager students gather. They ask me
The poet fears failure & so she says “Hold on pen— what if the critics hate me?”
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,
She leaps into the alien heart of the passerby, the drunk, the girl who spouts Freudian talk over Szechuan food. She is part herself,
A delicate border. A nonexistent… The train obligingly dissolves in… The G.I. next to me is talking wa… I don’t ‘know the Asian mind,’ he… Moving through old arguments.
Baby-witch, my daughter, my worship of the Goddess alone condemns you to the fire. . .