since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid
God's terrible face brighter than a spoon collects the image of one fatal word;so that my life(which liked the sun and the moon)resembles something that has not occurred:i am a birdcage without any bird a collar looking for a dog a kisswithout lips;a prayer lacking any kneesbut something beats within my shirt to provehe is undead who living noone is.I have never loved you dear as now i love.
one day anyone died i guess (and noone stooped to kiss his face) busy folk buried them side by side little by little and was by was
And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms
mr youse needn't be so spry concernin questions arty each has his tastes but as for i i likes a certain party gimme the he-man's solid bliss for youse ideas i'll match youse a pretty girl who naked is is worth a million statues
may came home with a smooth round stone as small as a world and as large as alone.
things which in my mind blossom will stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise appear capable of fragility and indecision
Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same sun moon stars rain
Next to of course god America i / love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh
What if a dawn of a doom of a dream bites this universe in two, peels forever out of his grave, and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are by somebody who can love and who shall be continually reborn, a human being.
who knows if the moon's a balloon,coming out of a keen city in the sky--filled with pretty people? ( and if you and I should get into it,if they should take me and take you into their balloon, why then we'd go up higher with all the pretty people than houses and steeples and clouds: go sailing away and away sailing into a keen city which nobody's ever visited,where always it's Spring)and everyone's in love and flowers pick themselves
When god decided to invent everything he took one reath bigger than a circustent and everything began
Unlove's the heavenless hell and the homeless home.
someones married their everyones laughed their cryings and did their dance (sleep wake hope and then) they said their nevers they slept their dream
my mother hoped that i would die etcetera bravely of course my father used to become hoarse talking about how it was a privilege and if only he could
i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my uncle Sol and started a worm farm)
All in green went my love riding
The whole truth... sings only - and all lovers are the song.
because it's Spring thingS dare to do people (& not the other way round)because it 's A pril Lives lead their own persons(in stead of everybodyelse's)but what's wholly marvellous my Darling is that you & i are more than you & i(be ca us e It's we)
What concerns me fundamentaly is a meteoric burlesk melodrama, born of the immemorial adage love will find a way.
the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople... you and i are human beings; mostpeople are snobs.
a salesman is an it that stinks to please but whether to please itself or someone else makes no more difference than if it sells hate condoms education snakeoil vac uumcleaners terror strawberries democ ra(caveat emptor)cy superfluous hair
love being such, or such, the normal corners of your heart will never guess how much my wonderful jealousy is dark
Buffalo Bill's defunct
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