Don't lock me in wedlock, I want marriage, an encounter....
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Bite down on the bitter stem of your nectared...
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The Minoan Snake Goddess is flanked by a Chardin still-life, somber and tranquil, and by Mohammedan angels...
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Sixteen. Her breasts round, round, and dark-nippled who now these two months long is bones and tatters of flesh in earth.
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Two girls discover the secret of life in a sudden line of poetry.
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Don't eat those nice green dollars your wife gives you for breakfast.
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Marvelous Truth, confront us at every turn, in every guise.
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and wife or husband who does not lock the door of the marriage...
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'Living a life'— the beauty of deep lines dug in your cheeks.
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there is more blood than sweet juice always more blood—mister death goes indoors exhausted
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he bowed and not flinching from her black breath gave her his arm....
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I remember a dream two nights ago: the voice, 'the artist must create himself or be born again.'
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In the gold mouth of a flower the black smell of spring earth....
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Darling Death shouted in his ear,...
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A letter with it discloses, in its words and between them,...
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Meanwhile the angel, dressed for laughs as a plasterer,...
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putting his hope in certain death, lowering his head again to the grass.
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Last night as if death had lit a pale light...
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Black one, black one, there was a white candle in your heart.
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I would be met and meet you so, in a green airy space, not locked in.
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there, where you live, live: start over, everyman, with the algae of your dreams.
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... transform into our flesh our...
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There's so much absolute hope now. She's full of miracles and she's a fighter.
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It shouldn't be too much of a surprise that the Internet has evolved into a force strong enough to reflect the greatest hopes and fears of those who use it. After all, it was designed to withstand nuclear war, not just the puny huffs and puffs of politicians and religious fanatics.
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I hear the tide turning. Last eager wave over- taken and pulled back by first wave of the ebb.
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(1) Know the pinetrees. Know the orange dryness of sickness and death in needle and cone. Know them too in green health, those among whom your...
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As the artist extends his world with...
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old Death, dusty gardener, are you alive yet, do I live on yet, in your gray considering eye?
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... asks what it's too late to ask: "Where is my life? Where is my life? What have I done with my life?"
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A changing skyline. A slice of window filled in by a middle-distancing oblong topped by little moving figures.
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