Others

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.

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!

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

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.

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.

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

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!

And the new plants, still awkward in their soil, The lovely diminutives. I could watch! I could watch! I saw the separateness of all things!

My secrets cry aloud. I have no need for tongue. My heart keeps open house, My doors are widely flung.

One rational voice is dumb: over a grave The household of Impulse mourns one dearly loved.