Fine vapors escape from whatever is doing the living. The night is cold and delicate and full of angels...
|
I remember meeting you in a dark dream Of April, you or some girl, The necklace of wishes alive and breathing around your throat.
|
Everything is being blown away; A little horse trots with a letter in its mouth, which is read with eagerness...
|
... like a Wave on a beach, that thinks it's had this...
|
As words go crying after themselves, leaving the dream Upended in a puddle somewhere As though "dead" were just another adjective.
|
All of our lives is a rebus Of little wooden animals painted shy, Terrific colors, magnificent and horrible, Close together.
|
And we may be led, then, upward through more Powerful forms of poetry, past columns...
|
A moment that gave not only itself, but Also the means of keeping it, of not turning to dust...
|
Extreme patience and persistence are required, Yet everybody succeeds at this before being handed...
|
With all of my power of living I am forced to lie on the floor.
|
We are happy in our way of life. It doesn't make much sense to others. We sit about, Read, and are restless.
|
... the girls who came at dawn To pay a visit to the young child, and how, when he grew up to be a man...
|
... that there is no other way, That the history of creation proceeds according to...
|
There is the view that poetry should improve your life. I think people confuse it with the Salvation Army.
|
Another time I go outside Into the world. It rocks on and on. It was rocking before I saw it And is presumably doing so still.
|
Some day I'll claim to you how all used up I am because of you but in the meantime the ride...
|
As words go crying after themselves, leaving the dream Upended in a puddle somewhere As though 'dead' were just another adjective.
|
So we may never Again feel fully confident of the stratagem that bore us...
|
There is no going back, For standing still means death, and life is moving on,...
|
How much longer will I be able to inhabit the divine sepulcher Of life, my great love?
|
And suddenly, to be dying Is not a little or mean or cheap thing, Only wearying, the heat unbearable ...
|
Silly girls your heads full of boys
|
For these are moments only, moments of insight, And there are reaches to be attained,...
|
And of the other things death is a new office building filled with modern furniture, A wise thing, but which has no purpose for us.
|
The light that was shadowed then Was seen to be our lives,...
|
For what Is remarkable about our chronic reverie (a watch...
|
And the serial continues: Pain, expiation, delight, more pain,...
|
But it is the same thing we are all seeing, Our world. Go after it,...
|
'This is what my learning Teaches,' the Aquarian said, 'To absorb life through the pores For the life around you is dead.'
|
We are prisoners of the world's demented sink. The soft enchantments of our years of innocence...
|