Break, break, break,On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!And I would that my tongue could utterThe thoughts that arise in me.O, well for the fisherman’s boy,That he shouts with his sister at play!O, well for...

Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.There is no happiness like mine.I have been eating poetry.

Her love of words is a private passion – one she would rather not share. In the house of her childhood though everything had to be shared. If she tried to hold anything back, they...

The Dream KeeperBring me all of your dreams,You dreamer,Bring me all yourHeart melodiesThat I may wrap themIn a blue cloud-clothAway from the too-rough fingersOf the world.

I have stretched ropes from steeple to steeple; Garlands from window to window; Golden chains from star to star … And I dance.

I ache not from need -but from my heart’s gluttony of you.

Believe it not-it is not so!

Una mujer desnuda y en lo oscuro tiene una claridad que nos alumbra de modo que si ocurre un desconsuelo un apagón o una noche sin luna es conveniente y hasta imprescindible tener a mano...

Once upon a timeI fell in loveLost myselfAnd find another one.

Sometimes I dreamthat everything in the world is here, in my room, in a great closet, named and orderly,and I am here too, in front of it, hardly able to see for the flash and...

The lights became stars, which became streaks in the grayspace, and then networks of fading shimmers

A man who knows how little he knows is well, a man who knows how much he knows is sick. If, when you see the symptoms, you can tell, Your cure is quick.A sound man...

Oh, precious losing streak,you’re too cute for your own good. I try to laugh about itbut my face is made of wood.

Where joy in an old pencil is not absurd.

From heart to hearta heartbeat staggers, looking for a haven.Bereft. It is easier to enter heaventhan to pass through each others’ eyes

I was just an option.Blown easily to piecesand offered to the skyby the sweet laced painupon your lips.

You have my life,My heart,My soul in your hands

The ambitions are wake up, breathe, keep breathing.

HER BARBED-WIRE SMILELIFTED YOU TO HEAVENBUT I HAVE TO ASKDID GOD LOOK LIKE HER VOICE

Door of passage to the other side, the soul frees itself in stride.

some moments are nice, some arenicer, some are even worthwritingabout.

But how wonderful when the tale is told,And the message that is meant for usOpens like the scents of a mountain flower!

Vernal Equinox The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and my book;And the South Wind, washing through the room,Makes the candles quiver.My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the...

Immortal amarant, a flower which onceIn paradise, fast by the tree of life,Began to bloom; but soon for man’s offenceTo heaven removed, where first it grew, there grows,And flowers aloft, shading the fount of life,And...

Why are you so scared and creeping around,taking photographs all over town,pictures in the dark that live in the light,the world is my playground too and I’ll do what I like.

You know how this is:if I lookat the crystal moon, at the red branchof the slow autumn at my window,if I touchnear the firethe impalpable ashor the wrinkled body of the log,everything carries me to...

Going down in history is a dead end pursuit

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness

Un seul être vous manque, et tout est dépeuplé. (Miss one person and the world seems empty.)

I once broke up with a boy because he wrote me an awful poem.

It’s really rather easy to write eighth-century Chinese poetry,” said Angus Lordie. “In English, of course. It requires little effort, I find.

I feel there is an angel in me’ she’d say’whom I amconstantly shocking

In pride, in reasoning pride, our error lies;All quit their sphere and rush into the skies.Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, Men would be angels, angels would be gods. Aspiring to be gods,...

Then there’s the twoof us. This wordis far too short for us, it has onlyfour letters, too sparseto fill those deep barevacuums between the starsthat press on us with their deafness.It’s not love we don’t...

Be a light of hope in the landscapes of a soul.

If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o’clock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they’ll swallow your secrets...

Forcing the muse to let thoughts flow; equals to pushing a child, into labor.

…I see you as series of gestures, a palette of colors -all these tiny tiles pixelate, and then coalesce… into the idea of you…

The hours I spent in this anachronistic, bibliophile, Anglophile retreat were in surreal contrast to the shrieking horror show that was being enacted in the rest of the city. I never felt this more acutely...

…the feelings that pass between us are deeper than fleshly touches…

Deliver thunder, GodIf you choose not to talk.

…some say Twitter seems trite and lacks weightiness – but in actuality, it lends itself to poetry – it can be very compressed and intense…

A big desire is not enough to meet the expectations of lost dreams.

The RiderA boy told meif he roller-skated fast enoughhis loneliness couldn’t catch up to him,the best reason I ever heard for trying to be a champion.What I wonder tonightpedaling hard down King William Streetis if...

While gazing at myself from yourself, I was beautiful.

Poetry is the revelation of a feeling that the poet believes to be interior and personal, but which the reader recognizes as his own

When magic through nerves and reason passes, Imagination, force, and passion will thunder. The portrait of the world is changed.

Being in prison for seven years was like being in an army that never drilled, never deployed, and only fought itself.

Good is not always good.

The more I learned the less I felt I knew you and I got lost counting stars, I fell dreaming. Sometimes I’d wander away. Maybe I wasn’t ready or maybe it was just a hard...