EbbI know what my heart is likeSince your love died:It is like a hollow ledgeHolding a little poolLeft there by the tide,A little tepid pool,Drying inward from the edge.

We made love outdoors—without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and...

But life, they said, means life. Dying inside.The Devil was evil, mad, but I was the Devil’s wifewhich made me worse. I howled in my cell.If the Devil is gone then how could this be...

I am more than good enoughTo accomplish everything I can be,I will wake up todayThe history could have been different.But I am here now.

Then Jip went up to the front of the ship and smelt the wind; and he started muttering to himself,”Tar; Spanish onions; kerosene oil; wet raincoats; crushed laurel-leaves; rubber burning; lace-curtains being washed–No, my mistake,...

Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent

Then, the door opens and there he is; silhouetted in the hall light. Long hair, long legs, and a heartbeat in tune with my own.

I must,” then build your life in accordance with this necessity; your whole life, even into its humblest and most indifferent hour, must become a sign and witness to this impulse. Then come close to...

He is smitten on the brain, -he reads and writes verses! I caught him in the act! Fools might say he was inspired; but I know it is the first and worst symptom of lunacy....

Let be be finale of seem.The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.

For I have nothing to lean on, nowhere to call my home and there is nowhere I will go for Christmas to rest my head and touch familiar walls. I have no degree to show...

Poetry is the royal essence of beauty.

My writing, it’s my way of making sense of everything. My way to feel whole. May I never be complete and may I never feel content – please, let me always have the need, always...

The moon people do not eat by swallowing food but by smelling it. Their money is poetry – actual poems, written out on pieces of paper whose value is determined by the worth of the...

When there’s music in your soul, there’s soul in your music.

I Don’t Write Because God Gives Me A Fresh Word Everyday, I write Because of The Words He Has Already Spoken Yesterday That Changed Today.

Rouge of my heart, intertwined with double-hued destiny,Thread of my thoughts, constant and rubicund legacy,Filament of my future, endeared unto my expectation,Cord of my emotion, seared with eternal elation.

If freedom is free and none need worry, then what blood drops for thee?

Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!

I had let it all grow. I had supposed It was all OK. Your lifeWas a liner I voyaged in.Costly education had fitted you out.Financiers and committees and consultantsEffaced themselves in the gleam of your...

I will go to campus alone dressed in antique silk slips and beat-up cowboy boots and gypsy beads, and I will study poetry. I will sit on the edge of the fountain in the plaza...

Time, so majestically fine, was passing by when I asked him to stop, a while, and lay his imprint upon the spaciousness of feelings: his face, reflected in the mirror of my memories, his smile,...

The moon twangs its silver strings;The river swoons into town;The wind beds down in the pines,Covers itself with stars.

So very lovely His blood on her swollen lips His first vampireSo very lovely He would have to remember Each salacious cutHe took her slowly Bled her of secrets and screams He smiled contemplating That...

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society, where none intrudes,By the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not man the less, but Nature...

But writing poems and letters doesn’t seem to do much good.

Decades from now, my grandchild is going to be a poet… And she’s going to write about how she’s a living testament to how her grandmother made love to hurricane and calmed the storm.

Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor...

Each person you meetis an aspect of yourself,clamoring for love.

Your war drum ain’t / louder than this breath.

My heart’s scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed inthe moon and breathed out the world.

It is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem,—a thought so passionate and alive that like the spirit of a plant or an animal it has an architecture of its own, and...

I’ve learned to lickmy own foul woundsand prize the taste of ache.

Brother, It would hurt, And make me the motherOf every living thing.But, Fire Boy, you ain’t lifting my grass skirtUntil you burn me a ring.

Consider the difference between the first and third person in poetry […] It’s like the difference between looking at a person and looking through their eyes.

But yester-night I prayed aloud In anguish and in agony, Up-starting from the fiendish crowd Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me: A lurid light, a trampling throng, Sense of intolerable wrong, And whom I...

Enjoy a life of poverty. Become a poet.

It is not our job to remain whole.We came to lose our leavesLike the trees, and be born again,Drawing up from the great roots.

Haiku does not express emotion from the inside out by displaying the mind of a character. Haiku builds the emotional thrust, makes the artistic statement from the outside in, from the physical world to the...

My love is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June: My love is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune. How fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love...

Inside your heartA golden flower blossoms;Inside of meAnd inside of youNever dying . . .This flower of your soul

For the blind poor, Rx: bleed. For yourself; Rx: love nothing.Sow rows of onions only. Plant turnips in the dark of the moon.

children of the mist” – they must dwell apart from men and contemn their kind, or they fear they shall be only taken for common-place characters. They forget that poetry is the language which speaks...

The Pekes and the Pollicles, everyone knows, Are proud and implacable, passionate foes;It is always the same, wherever one goes.And the Pugs and the Poms, although most people saythat they do not like fighting, will...

I was the first Chicano to write in complete sentences.

Late FragmentAnd did you get whatyou wanted from this life, even so?I did.And what did you want?To call myself beloved, to feel myselfbeloved on the earth.

This is the Hour of Lead – Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow – First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –

the onewho will jolt awakeall the unwrittenthe unsungand the unlived in me. i am waitingfor him.

kisses happenwhen my morning blueberry muffin sails slowly upon my savoring tongue.

A touch so tenderBliss of sweet words fills of desire Open Hearts of sweet surrender Nightly poison gas the fire. A quite place to romance Touches as we held hands. No loud words spoken, but...