Let the wet earth embrace you firmly, soundly. She needs to be revived, she needs to beat like a heart full of adrenaline inside a chest.

The heart’s actionsare neither the sentence nor its reprieve. Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite. One bird singing back to another because it can’t not.

We left you there, lonely,Beauty your power,Wisdom your watchman,To hold the clay tower.from ‘The Tale of the Tiger Tree

Man would not be man if his dreams did not exceed his grasp. … Like John Donne, man lies in a close prison, yet it is dear to him. Like Donne’s, his thoughts at times...

Let them shoot us in the head,My blood will grow rootsand will blossom.

Wordplay hides a key to reality that the dictionary tries in vain to lock inside every free word.

We ran as if to meet the moon.

A Rough GuideBe polite at the reception desk.Not all the knives are in the museum.The waitresses know that a nice boyis formed in the same way as a deckchair.Pay for the beer and send flowers.Introduce...

BarterLife has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children’s faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness...

Poetry is the language of a state of crisis.

The table yellow with electric light, the fire by which stories are told, the bright spangle of the tree- they all blazé out of shadow and out of a darkness of winter

Listen. Outside this frame I can see light,heavy as pardon, reliable as granite.Help me. Help me drag it into the picture.

Sonnet 29When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless criesAnd look upon myself and curse my fate, Wishing me like to one...

I wind up stretched across the couchstill nodding with Sherlock Holmesexamining our crushed veins

Nature is bent on new beginningand death has not a chance of winning…

Sprawled out on the front lawn Looking up at an ordinary sky It could fall on me and somehow be The day I didn’t die

But the walls of my resolvemortared with stubbornnesshave been breached by circumstancesI cannot handle alone.

The poet’s task is to give every echo a voice.

Não estatize meus sentimentos. Pra seu governo, o meu estado é independente.

Poetry is the least imposition on silence in a world of chatter.

On Waterloo Bridge where we said our goodbyes,the weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.I wipe them away with a black woolly gloveAnd try not to notice I’ve fallen in loveOn Waterloo Bridge I am...

O words are poor receipts for what time hath stole away

… imaginary gardens with real toads in them …… if you demand on one hand,the raw material of poetry inall its rawness andthat which is on the other handgenuine, then you are interested in poetry.

Sometimes I open a book that’s so beautiful I have to shut it because it hurts me. I can’t stand it. It’s like, Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! This is going to drive me...

The most beautiful part of your bodyis where it’s headed. & remember,loneliness is still time spentwith the world.

This is perhaps the most noble aim of poetry, to attach ourselves to the world around us, to turn desire into love, to embrace, finally what always evades us, what is beyond, but what is...

Why love what you will lose?There is nothing else to love.

The Quiet WorldIn an effort to get people to lookinto each other’s eyes more,and also to appease the mutes,the government has decidedto allot each person exactly one hundred and sixty-seven words, per day.When the phone...

When a reader enters the pages of a book of poetry, he or she enters a world where dreams transform the past into knowledge made applicable to the present, and where visions shape the present...

I have met the soul walking upon my path.”For the soul walks upon all paths.The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of...

With each kiss that we shared we experienced the meaning of love. With the passing glances of passion we surrendered our hearts to the silence of the storm of intoxication. Holding on to each other...

She thought men were saviors……And she looked for more in them than what they were…Only to rescue herself from those she wished would rescue her…And isn’t that the most tragic lie…The lie where we tell...

Self love is an oceanand your heart is a vessel. Make it full,and any excess will spill overinto the lives of the peopleyou hold dear. But you must come first.

you told me onceabout how they usedto build whole city statesout of poemshow everything you see hereis made out ofthe bones of dreamshow having a stiffdrink with lorca meantyou had to writeeverything down right awaylately...

Now, standing here, it is clear as day: more than anything else, you want to find words for what you feel and think and everything that is dark. And then this terrifying thought hits you:...

I may not always be with you But when we’re far apartRemember you will be with meRight inside my heart

I have a lot of work to do today; I need to slaughter memory, Turn my living soul to stone Then teach myself to live again.

HarlemWhat happens to a dream deferred?Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore– And then run? Does it stink like rotten meat? Or crust and sugar over– like...

But then you left exactly how all the sad songs said you would

The Unexpected GiftTorn asunder from her slumberin the hour of half past threeThe child knew the tyrannical regimeand followed instinctively.-(slice from Enigmatic Evolution)

Girl, I remember well,ye, who I flung from Hell,and not a day has passed, I haven’t missedthe loss of your soul that I mourned,I’ve been bereft and forlorn,for the sweet taste of your flesh I’ve...

The experiences, the lessons, and the defeats,They were all necessary for me to be me,took me a while being blind before i could see,had to crawl on my knees before i stood on my feet,once...

I am a ghost,Living in ethereal thoughts.

Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers.Let me keep company always with those who say “Look!” and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads.

…be awake to the Life that is loving you andsing your prayer, laugh your prayer, dance your prayer, runand weep and sweat your prayer,sleep your prayer, eat your prayer, paint, sculpt, hammer, and read your...

The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.

In vogue and cosmopolitan they clutch their Pomeranians and walk among the millionaires or watch from swayback steamer chairs

It is time I came back to my real lifeAfter this voyage to an island with no name,Where I lay down at sunrise drunk with light.

Streets paved with opal sadness,Lead me counterclockwise, to pockets of joy,And jazz.

Birthing hope from the madnessthat perches on the fenceof our once perfectdreams.