Others

The tourist archipelagoes of my South are prisons too, corruptible, and though there is no harder prison than writing verse, what’s poetry, if it is worth its salt, but a phrase men can pass from hand to mouth?

These palms are greater than Versailles, for no man made them.

Beauty is a simple passion, but, oh my friends, in the end you will dance the fire dance in iron shoes.

As Parmigianino did it, the right hand Bigger than the head, thrust at the viewer And swerving easily away, as though to protect What it advertises.

often. I want my feet to be bare, I want my face to be shaven, and my heart— you can’t plan on the heart, but the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

often. I want my feet to be bare, I want my face to be shaven, and my heart— you can’t plan on the heart, but the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

My quietness has a man in it, he is transparent and he carries me quietly, like a gondola, through the streets.

If anyone was looking for me I hid behind a tree and cried out “I am an orphan.” And here I am, the center of all beauty! writing these poems! Imagine!

Candor ends paranoia.

Aimlessly It pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. No One listens to poetry.

Aimlessly It pounds the shore. White and aimless signals. No One listens to poetry.

Total absorption in poetry is one of the finest things in existence— It should not make you feel guilty. Everyone is absorbed in something. The sailor is absorbed in the sea. Poetry is the mediation of life.

Total absorption in poetry is one of the finest things in existence— It should not make you feel guilty. Everyone is absorbed in something. The sailor is absorbed in the sea. Poetry is the mediation of life.

Light breaks where no sun shines; Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart Push in their tides.

I wish to make a noise with my feet. I want my soul to find its proper body.

It is a true error to marry with poets or to be by them.

Do I not deal with angels When her lips I touch.

The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person, for our house is open, there are no keys in the doors, and invisible guests come in and out at will.

This iceberg cuts its facets from within. Like jewelry from a grave it saves itself perpetually and adorns Only itself.

Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.

Icebergs behoove the soul (both being self-made from elements least visible) to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected, indivisible.

The soul has many motions, body one.

What I love is near at hand, Always, in earth and air.

I knew a woman, lovely in her bones, When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them; Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one: The shapes a bright container can contain!