#Americans #Jews #Women
I am not interested in my body– the part that stinks & rots & brings forth life,
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…
Mute marriages: the ten-ton block of ice obstructing the throat, the heart, the red filter of the liver, the clogged life.
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,
My love is too much– it embarrasses you– blood, poems, babies, red needs that telephone from foreign countries,
For David Karetsky (April 14, 19… Putting the skis down in the white snow, the wind singing, the blizzard of time
Baby-witch, my daughter, my worship of the Goddess alone condemns you to the fire. . .
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…
The man giving birth in the dark has died & come back to life again, is stretching out his arms
Books which are stitched up the ce… Books on the beach with sunglass-c… Books about food with pictures of… Books about baking bread with brow… Books about long-haired Frenchmen…
I put our books face to face so they could talk. They whispered about us. I put yours on top of mine. They would not mate.
On a darkening planet speeding toward our death, we pierce a rosy cloud & hit clean air,
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…
It used to be hard for women, snowed in their white lives, white lies, to write books
Because you did, I too arrange fl… Watching the pistils just like ins… And the hard, red flesh of the pet… Widening beneath my eyes. They mo… Of clocks, seeming not to move exc…