#Americans Lyric poet
And when that music starts there is no time, she takes you ba… over fifteen years, as if yesterda… a song immortalized. Do you know h… I met her once, with my lover: “…
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…
I was young once; and on poverty another palace revolution without… Taking the day the field to wards surrender of material posses…
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…
For I have seen love and his face is choice Heart of H… a flesh of pure fire, fusing from… where all Motion is one. And I have known
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,…
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…
God love you Dana my lover lost in the horde on this Friday night, 500 men are moving up
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
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…
Destiny lies behind our forces and what lives in the soul dies not. It inhabits our dreams as perpetual as light. As the spring grass flowers,
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…
A simple poem About love is what I want To write: words Without mystery, but Shoulders touching