If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
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The house of my body has spoken often as you rebuild me like blocks, and promise to come visit when I'm finally adjusted on safe land, and am livable, joist to joist with storm windows and screens ...
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Death's a sad bone; bruised, you'd say, and yet she waits for me, year after year,
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Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have....
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Only with winter-patience can we bring The deep desired, long-awaited spring.
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It is foolish to wish for beauty. Sensible people never either desire it for themselves or care about it in others. If the mind be but well cultivated, and the heart well disposed, no one ever cares for the exterior.
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At six I lived in a graveyard full of dolls, avoiding myself, my body, the suspect in its grotesque house.
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The My Lai soldier lifts me up again and again and lowers me down with the other dead women and babies...
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I am obnoxious to each carping tongue Who says my hand a needle better fits,...
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His soul dropped down from heaven. Thank you, said Lazarus,...
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We laugh and we touch. I promise you love. Time will not take away that.
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this is no dream just my oily life where the people are alibis and the street is unfindable for an entire lifetime.
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Just once I knew what life was for.
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All those girls who wore the red shoes,...
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Nor youth, nor strength, nor wisdom spring again, Nor habitations long their names retain, But in oblivion to the final day remain.
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Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.
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O Time the fatal wrack of mortal things, That draws oblivion's curtains over kings;
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What's the point of fighting the dollars when all you need is a warm bed?...
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Your apple face, the simple crèche Of your arms, the August smells...
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My life has appeared unclothed in court,...
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... the heart monitor, the death cricket bleeping.
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The joy that isn't shared dies young.
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Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
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Don't look now, God, we're all right. All the suicides are eating Black Bean Soup;...
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And time brings down what is both strong and tall. But plants new set to be eradicate,...
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... wounding God with his blue face, his tyranny, his absolute kingdom, with my aphrodisiac.
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Your old skin puckering, your lungs' breath Grown baby short as you looked up last...
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Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray....
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If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
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If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee.
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