Enmerson’s interest is in the workshop phase, the birthing stage of art, not the museum moment, the embalming phase. Poetry mimics Creation and is therefore sacred. More precisely, just as God may indeed be a...

Tell the truth, but tell it slant.

I wish to stay drenchedforeverin those rain-blue eyesin those…soul-reaching crystalsnot moving a musclenor breathingjustsavoringthis turquoise acheagainst my heart.

The muffled syllables that Nature speaksFill us with deeper longing for her word; She hides a meaning that the spirit seeks,She makes a sweeter music than is heard.

the ocean mist engulfs me, like a lifetime’s friendship honored.

You say you are a poet of law; I saw you are a contradiction in terms. I only wonder there were not comets and earthquakes on the night you appeared in this garden

I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you’re an artist, by children if you’re not.

The pleasure we feel, reading a poem, is our assurance of its integrity.

you wereand always will bethat first ever touchto have fertilizedthe groundbeneath my life’s treesthat first ever roseto have fragrancedthe rest of my memories.

A Psalm of LifeTell me not in mournful numbers,Life is but an empty dream!For the soul is dead that slumbers,And things are not what they seem.Life is real! Life is earnest!And the grave is not...

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

Stop that!” Do not mention this when you answer his letter, however. It is quite controversial and Mrs. Mandell is a poet besides.

What needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones,The labor of an age in pilèd stones,Or that his hallowed relics should be hidUnder a star-y-pointing pyramid?Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,What need’st thou such...

The poet doesn’t invent. He listens.

Real haiku is the soul of poetry. Anything that is not actually present in one’s heart is not haiku. The moon glows, flowers bloom, insects cry, water flows. There is no place we cannot find...

Sometimes, when we cannot attain the freedom we are fighting for, we free ourselves b carving a new path to freedom.

Conflicting stories continue to circulate concerning the death of the President. A second White House announcement has now called attention to the President’s schedule for the day, pointing out that no mention is made there...

On a small table beside his chair were other haphazardly stacked volumes by such poets as Emerson, Whitman, and Wallace Stevens, a dangerous crew to let into your head.

Oh dear sunday, I want to sleep in your arms and have fun day.

Hate flows from a broken spirit.

And like nectar inside the bud,my blood drinks from your blood, beloved,and starves to join the salvation in your eyes;to be understood again and again, by your nakedness and certainty, a humbleness that trickles into...

Dreaming of getting you I loosed everything Cheerfulness of smile And all the dreams of life

Nothing that truly mattersCan ever evaporate,Be excised,Burnt out of your soul.

Depression/The assassin inside me

To truly understand poetry one must understand themselves from within one’s self.

… You can’t be with God and be neutral. / True contemplation is resistance. And poetry, / gazing at clouds is resistance I found out in jail.

We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost’s familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been traveling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on...

Exhaust the little moment. Soon it dies.And be it gash or gold it will not comeAgain in this identical disguise.

You will recognize your own path when you come upon it because you will suddenly have all the energy and imagination you will ever need.

poet”. Whereas I see poets in the wanderers I encounter, the baristas who serve me, and the truckers I, so, love to talk to.To be a poet in my humble opinion is to be a...

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no, it is an ever-fixed mark...

Love could never be forever only for a lifetime, only God can love eternally.

Fondling,’ she saith, ‘since I have hemm’d thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer; Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:...

I forced myself out of a love that I knew would only end fatally.I forced myself into the dark, until I could no longer remember how to feel with my eyes. I forced my mind...

You were the poem I never knew how to write because no words could describe the wind you cannot see, but feel.

☺☺ When a man gets you 99, he starts to think, he may only have another 10 years of sexy lovemaking left… Still Smiling At 99. ☺☺

Certainly not! I didn’t build a machine to solve ridiculous crossword puzzles! That’s hack work, not Great Art! Just give it a topic, any topic, as difficult as you like…”Klapaucius thought, and thought some more....

But I don’t shut up and I don’t die.I liveand fight, maddeningthose who rule my country.For if I liveI fight,and if I fightI contribute to the dawn.

A writer is not so much someone who has something to say as he is someone who has found a process that will bring about new things he would not have thought of if he...

Sewn together patterns, like many clashing moods,She wears what No others dare

Books! tis a dull and endless strife:Come, hear the woodland linnet,How sweet his music! on my life,There’s more of wisdom in it.

Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life or joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; Even the dearest that...

There’s a lamentation in the flutter of your lash.

To pray you open your whole selfTo sky, to earth, to sun, to moonTo one whole voice that is youAnd know there is moreThat you can’t see, can’t hearCan’t know except in momentsSteadly growing, and...

Though I love your company, your instructions are wasted her. I will always choose the woman who caries me off, I will always sit with the family of loneliness.

The object of poetic activity is essentially language: whatever his beliefs & convictions, the poet is more concerned with words than what these words designate.

Gretel in Darkness:This is the world we wanted.All who would have seen us deadare dead. I hear the witch’s crybreak in the moonlight through a sheetof sugar: God rewards.Her tongue shrivels into gas….Now, far from...

These dreams are disappearingSpeak and be misunderstood Or be silent and goodand as how far as it lookThese dreams are disappearing..Put hopes in a box and tieIt’s either protect it or dieMaintain the truth or...

When you were sleeping on the sofaI put my ear to your ear and listenedto the echo of your dreams.That is the ocean I want to dive in, merge with the bright fish, plankton and...

Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist.Pink dragonflies fall from the airand become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks.The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter. Like the smile of a child separatedfrom...