Haleine contre haleine, échauffe-moi la vie,Mille et mille baisers donne-moi je te prie,Amour veut tout sans nombre, amour n’a point de loiTranslated: Breath against breath warms my life.A thousand kisses give me I pray thee.Love...

Love is a strange creature that no man can understand

I was asked once why I write poetry. I said, why do you breath?

That men, who might have tower’d in the vanOf all the congregated world, to fanAnd winnow from the coming step of timeAll chaff of custom, wipe away all slimeLeft by men-slugs and human serpentry,Have been...

She’s shed her skinsand plasma jeans, gets around in 2Kretro gear like the frock she wears today;a loose, white elegy to what’s been lost.Already she’s flowing back into herselfthe way a river flows to fill...

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.

Who could have foretoldthe heart grows oldfrom touching others

Envy won’t make you a better poet.

Tonight I saw myself in the dark window asthe image of my father, whose lifewas spent like this,thinking of death, to the exclusionof other sensual matters,so in the end that lifewas easy to give up,...

The eye–it cannot choose but see;We cannot bid the ear be still;Our bodies feel, where’er they be,Against or with our will.

A chronic poet should always be an inveterate nature-lover.

I said: ‘A line will take us hours maybe;Yet if it does not seem a moment’s thought,Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.

Do not trap yourself into an owl’s hooting soundwhere sad nights linger through the blackness of a hound

Do you know the reason why poetry and philosophy are nothing but dead-letter nowadays? It is because they have severed themselves from life. In Greece, ideas went hand-in-hand with life; so that the artist’s life...

You are my brother and I love you. I love you worshipping in your church, kneeling in your temple, and praying in your mosque. You and I and all are children of one religion, for...

With heaven in our hearts,life is romancing uswith glimpses ofthe universe dancing.

Suddenly, I was stopped by a quiet song . .Somebody stood, swaying slowly on the road,In the darkest shadow by a puddle,And low above it a small tree grew . .It might’ve been a wild...

In Memoriam A.H.H. Section 5I sometimes hold it half a sinTo put in words the grief I feel;For words, like Nature, half revealAnd half conceal the Soul within.But, for the unquiet heart and brain,A use...

Try to be thoughtful, don’t make the poor man say it;see how human he is,he has children of his own,it is your job to ask:Is she dead?And he will nod and say yesAnd now he...

This cruel age has deflected me,like a river from this course.Strayed from its familiar shores,my changeling life has flowedinto a sister channel.How many spectacles I’ve missed:the curtain rising without me,and falling too. How many friendsI...

She walked among the stars,The princess of the heavens,Looking for the one who caught her crystal tearsThat spilled out from liquid ice blue eyes-Rolling down pale cheeks-Then sealed up tenderly…In pearl alabaster jars…

Bí ann nó astáimse ag triall Ortagus má tácuirim geasa Ortmé a shábháilón dreama deirgur fear fuarsa spéir Thú.

Saturated Arrogance…imprisoned musescried to be freeshe took away their quillsand saiddo not bother me…

and my friend Karen remembersas a little girlstudying Hebrew she inquiredof her refugee tutor who stroked his beardand said in Yiddish “if there is a godor if there isn’t a goda Jew studies”–isn’t that a...

Today I write,riots with insite!Tomorrow I read,take the lead!Sometimes I sleep, health to keep!But for now I write,and got no gripe!

Poets, like fighters, both reap the benefits of roadwork.

How I go to the woodsOrdinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a singlefriend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable.I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the...

I tended to find lines of poetry beautiful only when I encountered them quoted in prose, in the essays my professors had assigned in college, where the line breaks were replaced with slashes, so that...

…because my life without you would bea place of parched and broken trees…

My fist is her flag still furled. Take the cannoli and leave the tuxedo – This is my jackleg opera to the world.

The SuicideNot a single star will be left in the night.The night will not be left.I will die and, with me,the weight of the intolerable universe.I shall erase the pyramids, the medallions,the continents and faces.I...

Poets are damned… but see with the eyes of angels.

Le Poète est semblable au prince des nuéesQui hante la tempête et se rit de l’archer;Exilé sur le sol au milieu des huées,Ses ailes de géant l’empêchent de marcher.

Poetry is inspired by the elements of random thoughts, an overflow of gazing at the unseen.

SPOILER ALERT: EVERYONE FALLS IN LOVE & DIES!

The subtleties of the mind cannot be transmitted in words, but can be seen in words.

Os poetas vão ficar no desemprego, em breve, muito em breve.Os algoritmos sem erro, perfeitos de pesadelo, escreverão melhor.

where some god pissed a rain of reason to make things grow only to die,

We have no quarrel with the German nation,One would not quarrel with a flock of sheep.But, generation after generation,They throw up leaders who disturb our sleep.

Don’t go far off, not even for a day,because I don’t know how to say it – a day is longand I will be waiting for you, as inan empty station when the trains areparked...

I do think that poetry is important though, if you don’t strive at it, if you don’t fill it full of stars and falseness.

I stalk certain words… I catch them in mid-flight, as they buzz past, I trap them, clean them, peel them, I set myself in front of the dish, they have a crystalline texture to me,...

A Blessing on the PoetsPatient earth-digger, impatient fire-maker,Hungry word-taker and roving sound-lover,Sharer and saver, muser and acher,You who are open to hide or uncover,Time-keeper and –hater, wake-sleeper, sleep-waker;May language’s language, the silence that liesUnder each...

Yo te he nombrado reina.Hay más altas que tú, más altas.Hay más puras que tú, más puras.Hay más bellas que tú, hay más bellas.Pero tú eres la reina.Cuando vas por las callesnadie te reconoce.Nadie ve...

I don’t existmetal pressed to pagesspilling blood, inkin vein each thought ragesSunlight shootingthrough a forest of pinesblack top windingand yellow dotted linesI am not hereonly a deep aching,a lightning flashand a tree trunk breakingSheets once...

She’s always looking for poetry and passion and sensitivity, the whole Romantic kitchen. I live on a rather simpler diet.’ ‘Prose and pudding?”I don’t expect attractive men necessarily to have attractive souls.

Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

Women who have been disappeared by violence are howling. The voices of disappeared women are echoing. I sing with these voices.

Inconstancy of every second punishes me.The wind, the rain, the clouds, the days,I try to grasp the hours but they banish me,And I remain in the vortex of incongruity.The lone coyote shrieks,Startling my soul into...

It must have been an endless breathing in: between the wish to know and the wish to praise there was no seam.