Don't lock me in wedlock, I want marriage, an encounter....
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Don't eat those nice green dollars your wife gives you for breakfast.
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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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Bite down on the bitter stem of your nectared...
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In the gold mouth of a flower the black smell of spring earth....
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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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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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A letter with it discloses, in its words and between them,...
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putting his hope in certain death, lowering his head again to the grass.
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Darling Death shouted in his ear,...
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Marvelous Truth, confront us at every turn, in every guise.
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Black one, black one, there was a white candle in your heart.
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Last night as if death had lit a pale light...
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I would be met and meet you so, in a green airy space, not locked in.
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Meanwhile the angel, dressed for laughs as a plasterer,...
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... transform into our flesh our...
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there, where you live, live: start over, everyman, with the algae of your dreams.
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there is more blood than sweet juice always more blood—mister death goes indoors exhausted
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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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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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A changing skyline. A slice of window filled in by a middle-distancing oblong topped by little moving figures.
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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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... 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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he bowed and not flinching from her black breath gave her his arm....
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Do you mistake me? I am speaking of living,...
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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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