from The AuctionI left my home with unencumbered willAnd all the rubbish of confusion sold.

in a slapfight with Jesusmy face bleedsbecause no one cut their fingernails back then

There are strange things done in the midnight sun By the men who moil for gold; The Arctic trails have their secret tales That would make your blood run cold;The Northern Lights have seen queer...

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.

I chase the wind and get lost in the clouds. I’m sweep into darkness in my search for the light.

…soy un fue y un será y un es cansado…

Never miss a minute to Sexercise your mind!

Random thoughts that fly away. Where words has no place to stay. Let it be right where they are. Let the work of art preserve its life.

The rain set early in tonight,The sullen wind was soon awake,It tore the elm-tops down for spite,And did its best to vex the lake:I listened with heart fit to break.When glided in Porphyria; straightShe shut...

I’d love to give you somethingbut what would help?

I can give not what men call love;But wilt thou accept notThe worship the heart lifts aboveAnd the heavens reject not:The desire of the moth for the star,Of the night for the morrow,The devotion to...

Hemingway is overrated,Twain is even more lost at sea,And all truths point to the mouth of a woman,Where both her whispers and her screams,Are born.Pour another glass, Beer, wine, whiskey,I don’t care,So long as its...

Time present and time pastAre both perhaps present in time futureAnd time future contained in time past.

Why does a heart wear its eyesinto helllike slivers of false sunshine

The young student sits with his head bent over his books, and his mind straying in youth’s dreamland; where prose is prowling on the desk and poetry hiding in the heart.

One need not be a chamber to be haunted.

My house burned downBut anyway, it was afterThe flower petals had already fallen

I never spoke — unless addressed —And then, ’twas brief and low —I could not bear to live — aloud —The Racket shamed me so —And if it had not been so far —And any...

One clear moment, one of trance One missed step, one perfect dance One missed shot, one and only chance Life is all…but one fleeting glance.

Eché mi esperanza al mar:y aún fue en el mar, mi esperanza verde-mar…

whatever you dobe gentle with yourself.you don’t just livein this worldor your homeor your skin.you also livein someone’s eyes.

Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

Oh,’ said a very white body as it threw a wrist watch to the ground which broke without attracting anyone’s attention, ‘Oh, how can anyone not love poetry, natural machines, large white houses, the brilliance...

Tăcerea coboară-n spiraleRotunde şi-ovale,Ca nişte confeti de-aceeaşi culoare…

Long Sight In AgeThey say eyes clear with age, As dew clarifies air To sharpen evenings, As if time put an edge Round the last shape of things To show them there; The many-levelled trees,...

The Rainy DayThe day is cold, and dark, and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,But at every gust the dead leaves fall,And the day is dark...

funny how our heartswere designed to loveso fiercely.but break ever so gently.

Terror is an artery. Running unfailing channels of bloodied thoroughfares by dint of the wilds beyond our knowing. Fluctuations and murmurs are audible within the splintered leeway of our preserve as a consequence of interstices...

may my faith always beat the end of the daylike a hummingbird…returningto its favorite flower.

And I think that it is certainly possible that the objective universe can be affected by the poet. I mean, you recall Orpheus made the trees and the stones dance and so forth, and this...

The gates of hell are open night and day;Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:But to return, and view the cheerful skies,In this the task and mighty labor lies.

I will be glad to go. There is no poetry here. It is as I have always set forth: joy comes of its own free will; it cannot be belabored.

A wind starts to blow, without feelings,A song falls in love, without singing,A life will begin in melodies of the strings,May you find all pleasure of the light,God bless, Warrior of Light!

The universe, maybe a blank canvas, you and I are born to create a painting. Some people die from cancer, some people die at birth, and that’s their painting. We’ll share the same painting, we’re...

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

When I shut my eyes on this world I’ll finally have peace.

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