our love likestepping on to a planesitting down in a carwalking on unknown land will either take us to where we belongor throw us into darkness

All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.

This is life…by all means necessary

I waited for the seasons of love to pass from this cold winter to the summer heat I dreamed of.

No thought is a stupid thought, those who are thoughtless are thought of as stupid.

A poet’s work . . . to name the unnamable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world and stop it from going to sleep.

I will not feel, I will notfeel, untilI have to

Contemporary poets got so obscure that poetry kind of fell out of favor,

Care: not carnage Love: not loathingPeace: not pieces

Nature, it seems, is the popular namefor milliards and milliards and milliardsof particles playing their infinite gameof billiards and billiards and billiards.

I long for scenes where man hath never trod A place where woman never smiled or wept There to abide with my Creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled...

How long your closet held a whiff of you,Long after hangers hung austere and bare.I would walk in and suddenly the trueSharp sweet sweat scent controlled the airAnd life was in that small still living...

A lot we have in our head,But things of heart are not yet dead,They have done none, but just fled,Out of us, Forgotten, just been bled..

Blessed is the covenant of love, the covenant of mercy, useless light behind the terror, deathless song in the house of night.

Mineral cactai,quicksilver lizards in the adobe walls,the bird that punctures space,thirst, tedium, clouds of dust, impalpable epiphanies of wind.The pines taught me to talk to myself.In that garden I learnedto send myself off.Later there were...

Without thinking, I knelt in the grass, like someone meaning to pray. When I tried to stand again, I couldn’t move,my legs were utterly rigid. Does grief change you like that?Through the birches, I could...

The Everlasting Staircase”Jeffrey McDanielWhen the call came, saying twenty-four hours to live,my first thought was: can’t she postpone her exitfrom this planet for a week? I’ve got places to do,people to be. Then grief hit...

The music of revelation announces itself to the reader in somber brooding tones or in melodies light as air and one is invited to dance with the most captivating of partners: poetry.

No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of...

February. Get ink, shed tears.Write of it, sob your heart out, sing,While torrential slush that roarsBurns in the blackness of the spring.Go hire a buggy. For six grivnas,Race through the noice of bells and wheelsTo...

What is desire but the hard wire argument given to the mind’s unstoppable mouth

I can speak of you now to anyone because I’ve stopped wanting anything like what I once wanted from you.

…the imagination works not so much through inspiration as through perseverance. One must slog through the false starts, spot the wrong words and hold out for the right ones, and above all, be vigilant about...

The OakLive thy Life, Young and old,Like yon oak,Bright in spring, Living gold;Summer-rich Then; and thenAutumn-changedSoberer-hued Gold again.All his leaves Fall’n at length,Look, he stands,Trunk and bough Naked strength.

The truth, the all moving magic, the single handed spark of it all wasI found art. And this saved my life.

No one else was as close and as open, No one else so boiled my blood, Even he, who consigned me to torment, Even he, who caressed and forgot.

Pleasured equallyIn seeking as in finding,Each detail minding,Old Walt went seekingAnd finding.

If you’re reading this…Congratulations, you’re alive.If that’s not something to smile about,then I don’t know what is.

Calico KittyMy calico kittywas painted and primedshe could prowlthe night away ~without spending a dime…

I love the silent hour of night,For blissful dreams may then arise,Revealing to my charmed sightWhat may not bless my waking eyes.

Mi táctica es mirarte aprender como sos quererte como sosmi táctica es hablarte y escucharte construir con palabras un puente indestructiblemi táctica es quedarme en tu recuerdo no sé cómo ni sé con qué pretexto...

The weight of wait.

I know many lives worth living.

I thought my fireplace dead and stirred the ashes. I burned my fingers.

Percy and BooksPercy does not like it when I read a book.He puts his face over the top of it, and moans.He rolls his eyes, sometimes he sneezes.The sun is up, he says, and the...

A writer will divine a metaphor from a pattern on a dress, or a gesture, because sunsets have been done before.

I give you this to take with you:Nothing remains as it was. If you know this, you canbegin again, with pure joy in the uprooting.

Each oneFrom one’s little nooseCranes outYells and shoutsGroans aloudAnd grows stoutAnd the noose tightensLeaving no way to creap outTill at the endSwollenSpent outBecomes silent.I am also having my turn among all.

I bleed to un-break you,un-mending me.I fall to save you…now who will save me.

You said one day you would come back for usThe ones that believed in youThe ones that asked you into their heartsThe ones that served you

My poetry is the highest valuable thing I have to make you smile…

LIFE IS NEVER OVER.

The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor WitShall lure it back to cancel half a Line,Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.

Put your mouthful of words away and come with me to watch the lilies open in such a field, growing there like yachts, slowly steering their petals without nurses or clocks.

When their voices didn’t reach my ears,I rebelled against my own skin too young to realize that without their stories I would starve.

The place trembled with sound. I didn’t need to do anything. They would do it all. But you had to be careful. Drunk as they were they could immediately detect any false gesture, any false...

Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.

The secret to life is to live as though you know the secret.” Barbara Botch

I have named you queen.There are taller than you, taller.There are purer than you, purer.There are lovelier than you, lovelier.But you are the queen.When you go through the streetsNo one recognizes you.No one sees your...

Lifes like a painters palette, just when you’ve got everything worked out the colours change