There were occasionally rifts in the cloud where the face of a woman appeared, frowning..

The stars fell one by one into his eyes and burnt..

You just go on your nerve..

A man was the cause of it all. An unarmed man with a weapon..

I wonder if the course of narcissism through the ages would have been any different had Narcissus first peered into a cesspool. He probably did..

I am always tying up and then deciding to depart..

When I die, don't come, I wouldn't want a leaf to turn away from the sun -- it loves it there. There's nothing so spiritual about being happy but you….

Even trees understand me! Good heavens, I lie under them, too, don't I? I'm just like a pile of leaves..

I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love..

Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas! / You really are beautiful! Pearls, / harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins!.

I don't ... like rhythm, assonance, all that stuff. You just go on your nerve. If someone's chasing you down the street with a knife you just run, yo….

I am not a painter. I am a poet. / Why? I think I would rather be / a painter, but I am not..

And always embrace things, people earth sky stars, as I do, freely and with the appropriate sense of space..

life perpetuated in parti-colored loves and beautiful lies all in different languages..

It may be that poetry makes life's nebulous events tangible to me and restores their detail; or conversely, that poetry brings forth the intangible q….

I have, for my own projected works and ideas, only the silliest and dewiest of hopes; no matter what, I am romantic enough or sentimental enough to w….

I can't even enjoy a blade of grass unless I know there's a subway handy, or a record store or some other sign that people do not totally regret life….

oh god it’s wonderful to get out of bed and drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes and love you so much.

Grace / to be born and live as variously as possible.

the only truth is face to face, the poem whose words become your mouth and dying in black and white we fight for what we love, not are.

It is easy to be beautiful; it is difficult to appear so. I admire you, beloved, for the trap you've set. It's like a final chapter no one reads beca….