The world is full of women who’d tell me I should be ashamed… if they had the chance. Quit danci… Get some self-respect and a day job.
In the burned house I am eating b… You understand: there is no house,… yet here I am. The spoon which was melted scrapes… the bowl which was melted also.
It was taken some time ago. At first it seems to be a smeared print: blurred lines and grey flec… blended with the paper;
I would like to watch you sleeping… which may not happen. I would like to watch you, sleeping. I would like to sleep with you, to enter
The puppet of the wolf I have not made yet encloses my right hand: fur stubbles my wrists, a tongue, avid, carnivorous,
Starspangled cowboy sauntering out of the almost– silly West, on your face a porcelain grin, tugging a papier-mache cactus
All those times I was bored out of my mind. Holding the log while he sawed it. Holding the string while he measured, boar… distances between things, or pound…
Two voices took turns using my eyes: One had manners, painted in watercolours, used hushed tones when speaking
‘They capped their heads with feat… their faces, wore their clothes ba… with torches through the midnight… and dragged the black man from his… to the jolting music of broken
Cruising these residential Sunday streets in dry August sunlight: what offends us is the sanities: the houses in pedantic rows, the p…
You, going along the path, mosquito-doped, with no moon, the… a single orange eye unable to see what is beyond the capsule of your dim
The house we built gradually from the ground up when we were yo… (three rooms, the walls raw trees) burned down last year they said
He, who navigated with success the dangerous river of his own bir… once more set forth on a voyage of discovery into the land I floated on
Your lungs fill & spread themselve… wings of pink blood, and your bone… empty themselves and become hollow… When you breathe in you’ll lift li… and your heart is light too & huge…
Marriage is not a house or even a tent it is before that, and colder: The edge of the forest, the edge of the desert
Love is not a profession genteel or otherwise sex is not dentistry the slick filling of aches and cav… you are not my doctor
The bronze clock brought with such care over the sea, which ticked like the fat slow hea… of a cedar, of a grandmother, melted and its hundred years
Those whose houses were burned burned houses. What else ever happ… once you start? While the roofs plunged into the root-filled cellars,
An other sense tugs at us: we have lost something, some key to these things which must be writings and are locked against us
This is the lair of the landlady She is a raw voice loose in the rooms beneath me. the continuous henyard
The moment when, after many years of hard work and a long voyage you stand in the centre of your ro… house, half-acre, square mile, isl… knowing at last how you got there,
More and more frequently the edges of me dissolve and I become a wish to assimilate the world, in… you, if possible through the skin like a cool plant’s tricks with ox…
There is nothing to be afraid of, it is only the wind changing to the east, it is only your father the thunder your mother the rain
What should we have taken with us? We never could decide on that; or what to wear, or at what time of year we should make the journey
The rest of us watch from beyond t… as the woman moves with her jagged… into her pain as if into a slow ra… We see her body in motion but hear no sounds, or we hear
He would like not to kill. He wou… what he imagines other men have, instead of this red compulsion. Wh… fail him and die badly? He would l… finger by finger and with great te…
This is the one song everyone would like to learn: the song that is irresistible: the song that forces men to leap overboard in squadrons
The snake hunts and sinews his way along and is not his own idea of viciousness. All he wants… a fast grab, with fur and a rapid pulse, so he can take that flutter…
You’re sad because you’re sad. It’s psychic. It’s the age. It’s… Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeles… you need to sleep.
He was the sort of man who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Many flies are now alive while he is not. He was not my patron.
