Coming at an end, the lovers Are exhausted like two swimmers.… Did it end? There is no telling.… Like an ocean with the dizzy proce… From which two can emerge exhauste…

“Limon tree very pretty And the limon flower is sweet But the fruit of the poor lemon Is impossible to eat” In Riverside we saved the oranges…

A dead starfish on a beach He has five branches Representing the five senses Representing the jokes we did not… Call the earth flat

What are you thinking about? I am thinking of an early summer. I am thinking of wet hills in the… Pouring water. Shedding it Down empty acres of oak and manzan…

If the diamond ring turns brass Mama’s going to buy you a looking… Marianne Moore and Ezra Pound an… going on a picnic together when th… University of Pennsylvania

The bartender Has eyes the color of ripe apricot… Easy to please as a cash register… Enjoys art and good jokes. Squish

A Postscript for Marianne Moo… No one exactly knows Exactly how clouds look in the sky Or the shape of the mountains belo… Or the direction in which fish swi…

Plague took us and the land from u… Rose like a boil, enclosing us wit… We waited and the blue skies writh… Becoming black with death. Plague took us and the chairs from…

What can I say to you, darling, When you ask me for help? I do not even know the future Or even what poetry We are going to write.

A Translation for Steve Jonas… Along East River and the Bronx The kids were singing, showing off… At the wheel, at oil, the rawhide,… Ninety thousand miners were drawin…

Sharp as an arrow Orpheus Points his music downward. Hell is there At the bottom of the seacliff. Heal

Listen, you silk-hearted bastard, I said in the bar last night, You wear those dream clothes Like a swan out of water. Listen, you wool-feathered bastard…

Any fool can get into an ocean But it takes a Goddess To get out of one. What’s true of oceans is true, of… Of labyrinths and poems. When you…

The trouble with comparing a poet with a radio is that radios don’€™t develop scar-tissue. The tubes burn out, or with a transistor, which most souls are, the battery or diagram burns o...

A Translation for Robert Jone… A diamond Is there At the heart of the moon or the br… And there is nothing in the univer…