1136 7 3
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How to capture in word, in song, the fleeting moments of our loveYou were hereAnd now you're goneEven as I used to lie next to you,bathed in the care and concern that emanated from your warm black brown eyes,I knew there would be that day, that you were no moreDestined for…
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76851
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Who has the child’s foreskin
The mohel has removed?
Who took the bleeding piece of flesh
His human nature proved?
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126140
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Last night Ariana our second daughter, only 8,wanted to baptize you for your birthday. Her hair shimmered and the face of her joy reminded me of Two Oceans Plateauin the Beartooth Range in southern Montana.As she walked from the sink she carrieda large…
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98033
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Wishing he holds you all night, unshaven chin/between your breasts.
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17001515
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for Bill YarrowPoetry is a way of breathingagainst the enemy's chest withoutlosing consciousness again. Itis a ghost dance. Poetry is tobe determined by the plight of bees.Poetry is a waterfall ona mailing list. I've never tasteda finer whiskey than poetry.Poetry is half…
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96632
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I used to be a poet, you know. /
Better, in many respects, than you.
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55063
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10842714
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Its intelligence won’t be/
diminished when you take/
a bone saw to its cranium
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1214104
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Come, bring your sadness
to the precipice of my body,
bury it within me like a tool
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96765
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A human being is here. He doesn't disappear
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100853
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The mother, a pony-tailed beauty, thinks she looks fat in her
new blue-checked pedal pushers and white blouse tied
under her full breasts— in the latest style.
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111032
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"Why, before the summer has passed
You won’t remember her name. . ."
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13212316
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They will take you, naked,
and put their tongues and fingers
into intimate, erogenous openings
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125475
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my God, I have no time, no time
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120495
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Parsimony, Sage Advice, Alimony, and Time.
That would be one.
The Waste Land. The Hollow Men. The Red Wheelbarrow.
There are others,
But I have definite shoe anxiety dreams and can’t get over them.
Do not Go Gently Into That Good Night. Alone
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1530138
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The subway train pulled up and I shuffled on board.
I announced to the whole subway car: “I’m a poet.”
And that was all I needed to do. It was like a miracle.
Someone got up immediately and gave me her seat.
People got in an orderly line and began
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87511
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Reports have been spreading fast
that an actual living poet
has been found right outside the
borders of Berkeley
Rumors grew into a wildfire of speculation
Saturday night when one of them
a tall graying older specimen
more or less in the
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102822
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Remembering you is easy
We do it every day,
When little Mike and Joey
Ask when the hell is Daddy ever coming home to play?
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95833
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I’d like to thank no one.
But especially my first love in life
For putting me through hell
With all her lies and eternal sweetness
Toward all her many leading men
While maintaining she was virgin
Until she met me.
What was the point?
Ah, y
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23022913
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. . was the earliest born of the not-so-great Pedantic Poets . .
. . beleaguered by family financial crises that continued to the beginning of his life, he suffered periods of deep elation . .
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82731
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“I’ve read your blog recently,” my friend told me over waffles and cold potato salad at 10PM, “and something strange is going on in there.”
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56220
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Call me crazy, but I like to write poetry. For cats.
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90531
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The waitress appears and Fred gives her a big smile and th3 once over. It's no wonder he's had so many women in his life while I've . . . uh . . . read a lot of books.
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146033
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59221
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And then there was this girl from Boston, named Pat, who was a little on the hefty side and wouldn’t get off me. And I was skinny then too. She wanted sex so much and so often that the whole time I visited her apartment in Cambridge, after I graduated f
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100621
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Something’s been eating at my craw. I’m just going to go ahead and spill it all out. You ever hear about Poetry Whores? Well, let me tell you a little about them, because if I don’t, then who will? I’m not going to name names. You can pretty much guess
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64131
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It comes to our attention
you have what it takes
to join our enterprise.
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128741
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I think theorems and hypotheses
but all that comes out is punching and smashing
frustrated hate flows where I'd prefer to know love.
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13281410
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It is indisputable that poets love roadkill...
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146232
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Oh, you can’t stay, your poetry/
Is still out in the world, maybe when you die/Your volumes will make their way/Not just here but
everywhere
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