I've tried, to hate you but I don… I might? I can’t? I know I wont. The heart can be in a state of den… In a phase where amnesia encourage… A hurting heart and a sinking soul…
Child, the current of your breath… You lie, a small knuckle on my whi… lie, fisted like a snail, so small… at my breast. Your lips are animal… with love. At first hunger is not…
Search thou my heart; If there be guile, It shall depart Before thy smile. Search thou my soul;
...I step into the confessional...
It is a lie—their Priests, their… Their Saints, their... all they f… Are lies, and lies—there! through… And ceiling, there! and walls and… There, lies, they lie—shall still…
[SPAIN.] It is a lie—-their Priests, their… Their Saints, their... all they f… Are lies, and lies—-there! through… And ceiling, there! and walls and…
Now that I kneel at the throne, O… Pity and pardon me. Much have I striven to sing the s… Brother of beast and tree; Yet when the stars catch me alone
As soon as I start writing - I know it isn’t a good sign. Why is it that I never write about anything good? Maybe I’m afraid I’ll
...He was found dead, slumped in a confessional...
...della peggiore confessione...
Wait Mister. Which way is home? They turned the light out and the dark is moving in the corn… There are no sign posts in this ro… four ladies, over eighty,
I am thirty this November. You are still small, in your fourt… We stand watching the yellow leave… flapping in the winter rain, falling flat and washed. And I re…
My dear, it was a moment to clutch at for a moment so that you may believe in it and believing is the act of love,… even in the telling, wherever it w…
After the sweet promise, the summer’s mild retreat from mother’s cancer, the winter m… I come to this white office, its s… its hard tablet, its stirrups, to…
Since you ask, most days I cannot… I walk in my clothing, unmarked by… Then the almost unnameable lust re… Even then I have nothing against… I know well the grass blades you m…
I was thinking of a son. The womb is not a clock nor a bell tolling, but in the eleventh month of its l… I feel the November
...Open confessional...
...the confessional...
...This almost a meta poem, less confessional...
...the world’s confessional....
...Let Romanists all at the Confessional kneel,...
Those blessèd structures, plot and… why are they no help to me now I want to make something imagined, not recalled? I hear the noise of my own voice:
The stiff spokes of this wheel touch the sore spots of the earth.… On the Potomac, swan—white power launches keep breasting the… Otters slide and dive and slick ba…
Only teaching on Tuesdays, book—w… in pajamas fresh from the washer e… I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough St… where even the man
“I won’t go with you. I want to s… That’s how I threw cold water on my Mother and Father’s watery martini pipe dreams at Sund… ... Fontainebleau, Mattapoisett,…
Your nurse could only speak Itali… but after twenty minutes I could i… and tears ran down my cheeks.... When I embarked from Italy with m… the whole shoreline of the Golfo d…
Father, this year’s jinx rides us… where you followed our mother to h… a second shock boiling its stone t… leaving me here to shuffle and dis… you from the residence you could n…
We sail out of season into an oyst… over a terrible hardness. Where Dickens crossed with mal de… in twenty weeks or twenty days I cross toward him in five.
I have gone out, a possessed witch… haunting the black air, braver at… dreaming evil, I have done my hitc… over the plain houses, light by li… lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out…
I am surprised to see that the ocean is still going on. Now I am going back and I have ripped my hand from your hand as I said I would
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