Sadie was one of the livingest chits In all the land.
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Each body has its art, its precious prescribed Pose, that even in passion's droll contortions, waltzes,...
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God's Son went home. Among us it is whispered He cried the tears of men. Feeling, in fact, We have no need of peace.
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You are the beautiful half Of a golden hurt.
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Come live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines, and silver hooks.
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Each body has its art...
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You know a dream is like a river, ever changing as it flows. And a dreamer's just a vessel that must follow where it goes. Trying to learn from what's behind you and never knowing what's in store makes each day a constant battle just to stay between the shores. And I will sail my vessel 'til the river runs dry. Like a bird upon the wind, these waters are my sky. I'll never reach my destination if I never try, So I will sail my vessel 'til the river runs dry. Too many times we stand aside and let the water slip away. To what we put off 'til tomorrow has now become today. So don't you sit upon the shore and say you're satisfied. Choose to chance the rapids and dare to dance the tides.
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I swear to keep the dead upon my mind,/Disdain for all time to be overglad./Among spring flowers, under summer trees./By chilling autumn water...
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He who was Goodness, Gentleness, And Dignity is free, Translates to public Love Old private charity.
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A cry of bitter dead men who will never Attend a gentle maker of musical joy.
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Maud went to college. Sadie stayed at home. Sadie scraped life With a fine-tooth comb.
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He was born in Alabama. He was bred in Illinois. He was nothing but a Plain black boy.
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... is merry glory. Is saltatory. Yet he grips his right of twisting free.
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Come live with me, and be my love, and we will some new pleasures prove, Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks
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After the baths and bowel-work, he was dead.
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She kisses her killed boy. And she is sorry. Chaos in windy grays through a red prairie.
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We Sing sin. We Thin gin. We Jazz June. We Die soon.
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Poetry is life distilled.
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Prepare to meet (sisters, brothers) the brash and terrible weather; the pains; the bruising; the collapse of bestials, idols.
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Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt Drag out to their last dregs and I resume...
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A dryness is upon the house My father loved and tended.
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I've stayed in the front yard all my life. I want a peek at the back...
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With the narcotic milk of peace for men Who find Thy beautiful center ...
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To be in love Is to touch with a lighter hand. In yourself you stretch, you are well.
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Come live with me, and be my love,And we will some new pleasures proveOf golden sands, and crystal brooks,With silken lines, and silver hooks.
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Cold an old predicament of the breath: Adroit, the shapely prefaces complete, Accept the university of death.
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... Live!/and have your blooming in the noise of the whirlwind.
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For I am rightful fellow of their band. My best allegiances are to the dead.
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By the time he had hurt his fourth white man Rudolph Reed was dead....
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Forgotten and stinking they stick in the can. And the vase breath's better and all, and all....
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