#AmericanWriters #Desire #Love #Relationships #SocialCommentaries & & Complicated, Gender Realistic Sexuality
Death is an unforgiven That’s what we have in common language an act of sharing words. Coming tears will do it Where there’s smoke
O poetry, visit this house often, imbue my life with success, leave me not alone, give me a wife and home. Take this curse off
to Ms. Reid & Nana Will Never F… Commencement exercises inhibited by prevalent narcotics less habitu… forbid association to prior or pen… Cambridge excesses in vicinity of…
I have never stopped loving him from the first moment I cast eyes… although they made us rob Brink’s whether up the chimney. he stopped loving me
I was young once; and on poverty another palace revolution without… Taking the day the field to wards surrender of material posses…
The hollow eyes of shock remain Electric sockets burnt out in the skull. The beauty of men never disappears But drives a blue car through the
Yes I put her away. But now life flares up As safe as China in a cup You hear the droppings of her heart.
Not as bad as you are And the next time that I see you I shall be old, a figure Couched from under acquaducts Where you still remain abroad a si…
I’m shaking from another man but remembering beating you on Sunday evening, a pal of solitude as Veruschka before Adolph Hitler’s lawyers did
to Somes from incarceration, Taunton State… gaunt, ugly deformed broken from the womb, and horribly… at the labor of their forefathers,…
Gas. A marriage that never existe… and a Fortune stolen from M a d… Who could say wealth provides secu… income lies upon inferiors, inferring sup…
A quart of champagne, one pill too… and a paper from the state saying… Was it the pills or champagne no simply some orange roses in a glas… on the bureau to transport myth fr…
Our age bereft of nobility How can our faces show it? I look for love. My lips stand out dry and cracked with want
A simple poem About love is what I want To write: words Without mystery, but Shoulders touching
Perhaps some day you shall find me… as I blow smoke out my mouth While you walk the riverbank in the rain on Sunday evening. Looking for jazz, hearing love’s b…