Chainschains that hold me to the groundchains that keep me solidly boundchains that tether my heart to youchains that hold only one truth…

Of course! the path to heavendoesn’t lie down in flat miles.It’s in the imaginationwith which you perceive this world,and the gestureswith which you honor it.-from The Swan

A BOAT beneath a sunny sky,Lingering onward dreamilyIn an evening of July —Children three that nestle near,Eager eye and willing ear,Pleased a simple tale to hear —Long has paled that sunny sky:Echoes fade and memories...

The sun rises bright and beautiful as if it feels no pain.It must not see, it must not hear, it can’t possibly or it would not be able to overcome so defiantly.My bed creaks and...

The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;She shines on thieves on the garden wall,On streets and fields and harbour quays,And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees.

Get out of my head,You’ve overstayed your stay,This head no longer can spare more thoughts,Leave my aching heart alone,You weaved your web all over my heart,Captured what was never yours,The aching in my chest can’t...

thinking: I wanna walk across waterlike sound, as her skin remembers a distant prickling, another season,a sun and a wind that lifts her hairs

EARLY BIRDOh, if you’re a bird, be an early birdAnd catch the worm for your breakfast plate.If you’re a bird, be an early early bird–But if you’re a worm, sleep late.

ConnubialBecause with alarming accuracy she’d been identifying patterns I was unaware of—this tic, that tendency, like the way I’ve mastered the language of intimacy in order to conceal how I felt— I knew I was...

Within my heart a garden grows,wild with violets and fragrant rose.Bright daffodils line the narrow path,my footsteps silent as I pass.Sweet tulips nod their heads in rest;I kneel in prayer to seek God’s best.For round...

The ancients wrote down the first scripture of choreography by observing in the night sky movements of the dancing stars.

Until we say the truth, there can be no tenderness.As long as there is desire, we will not be safe

That’s enough feeling for a while nowHands shaking, sweat dripping from his browHe eyed the narrow closet doorThe monster in it asking him to feel moreTill he learned to not hearTo stay away and not...

I have seen the face of sorrowShe looks away in the distanceAcross all these bridgesFrom whence I cameAnd those spans, trussed and archedHold up our lives as we go back againTo how we thought thenTo...

we are two like-minded creatures too well-matched, both equal halves of a whole not altogether wholesome

AmendsRegret lingers, niggles. Yellow lilieson the table, gone brown in the vase.The garden we talk about, endlessly, but never begin, deterred by tough sod.On the edge of the walk, the wheelbarrowfull of stones waits like...

sometimes when everything seems atits worstwhen all conspiresand gnawsand the hours, days, weeksyearsseem wasted – stretched there upon my bedin the darklooking upward at the ceilingi get what many will consider anobnoxious thought:it’s still nice...

I found the best thingI could dowas just to type awayat my own workand let the dyingdieas they always have.

…feel the fierce way desiretourniquets itself around you andclingsClubland South of Market tweak-chic trannies powder their noses frombullet-shaped compacts and flick their forkedtongues like switchblades as they burn the nightdown bleed day to night to...

My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it, Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.

This ploughman dead in battle slept out of doorsMany a frozen night, and merrilyAnswered staid drinkers, good bedmen, and all bores:”At Mrs Greenland’s Hawthorn Bush,” said he,”I slept.” None knew which bush. Above the town,Beyond...

Great Britain be proud, be blessed, be bold! Show the world what are you made of; show them you are made of gold not bronze. Be proud, be blessed,be bold!

Many are poets, but without the name;For what is Poesy but to createFrom overfeeling Good or Ill; and aimAt an external life beyond our fate,And be the new Prometheus of new men,Bestowing fire from Heaven,...

MISERABLERelease the toxic and infectious-Spreaders of misery,Souls destroying souls-And poisonous liars.Awaken from the hallucinations-And take back your heart.Reclaim your self-esteem-And leave the toxic be.

grappling with some small understanding of this place, this time, we’re in” my poem “In a BishopsWood Clearing

The.World.Is.Not.A.Safe.Place.

They were full of mysteries and secrets, like… like poems turned into landscapes.””‘Poems turned into landscapes.'” he murmured with a slight smile. “And what of Vestenveld’s gardens? Do you see poems in them?””Your gardens are...

All of my insecuritiesshine in the dark.

Arrive before your Husband. Not that I canSee quite what good arriving first will do;But still arrive before him. When he’s takenHis place upon the couch and you go tooTo sit beside him, on your...

Things are always terriblefor some people. The questionis the ratio of the palpable hurtto the general sessionof life in an era.

Just one caress became a symphony of passion, insatiable longing, an unquenchable desire to possess…. Gasps… The sparkling touch, embrace make hard to breathe… A mere short burst of brilliance, explosive need…forbidden sweet… Beneath the...

Tender Ember…Barred and brandedto be forever unlovedI was a tender emberseeking solace from above…

…flames moved towards himand dropped within-singed and marred his tender skin …(the frightful plight tale)

Where joy in an old pencil is not absurd.

Ellerin neden ıslak?Yine yağmuru tutmaya mı çalıştın?Öldürmüşsün damlaları,fazla sıkma dedim sana.Pis! Pis!Dur! Nereye?İzin ver içeyim.

How many great gems were lost to thoughtand not put down to pen.You can but think of just a fewand then they’re lost again.

I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

I want you to judge me without thinking about it.I want you to give me advice without considering my opinion.I want you to expecting anything without the need to trust me.I want you to decide...

A poem isn’t selfish. It speaks to people.

THE ONE WHO STAYEDYou should have heard the old men cry,You should have heard the biddiesWhen that sad stranger raised his fluteAnd piped away the kiddies.Katy, Tommy, Meg and BobFollowed, skipped gaily,Red-haired Ruth, my brother...

You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear thorough the search.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

How can I wear the harness of toilAnd sweat at the daily round,While in my soul foreverThe drums of Pictdom sound?

Mislaid flame of tender emotionsRekindled.Together we live to the point of tears,I wouldn’t want it any other way.

About your easy heads my prayersI said with syllables of clay.What gift, I asked, shall I bring nowBefore I weep and walk away?Take, they replied, the oak and laurel.Take our fortune of tears and liveLike...

you and i live in societieswhere our behaviourand the systems, policies and practicesthat rule usare set up to treatsome better than others.because of how much moneythey seem to have.

America, the plum blossoms are falling.

as long as there arehuman beings aboutthere is never going to beany peacefor any individualupon this earth (oranywhere elsethey mightescape to).all you can dois maybe grabten lucky minuteshereor maybe an hourthere.somethingis working toward youright now,...

Elle est mortelle mais elle n’a ni cœur ni me.Elle inflige la souffrance et invoque une justice ignorée.Elle est le glaive et la main qui la guide s’appelle vengeance.Ne la croise pas sur ton chemin...

Here is a list of terrible things,The jaws of sharks, a vultures wingsThe rabid bite of the dogs of war,The voice of one who went before,But most of all the mirror’s gaze,Which counts us out...