love is the every only god
To destroy is always the first step in any creation.
i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows
Your slightest look easily will unclose me, though I have closed myself as fingers, you open petal by petal myself a Spring opens her first rose.
You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.
A pretty girl who is naked / is worth a million statues
it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
An intelligent person fights for lost causes, realizing that others are merely effects
And the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.
suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.
yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds
Knowledge is a polite word for dead but not buried imagination.
life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis
I am someone who proudly and humbly affirms that love is the mystery-of-mysteries, and that nothing measurable matters 'a very good God damn'; that 'an artist, a man, a failure' is no mere whenfully accreting mechanism, but a givingly eternal complexity-neither some soulless and heartless ultrapredatory infra-animal nor any understandingly knowing and believing and thinking automaton, but a naturally and miraculously whole human being-a feelingly illimitable individual; whose only happiness is to transcend himself, whose every agony is to grow.
Progress is a comfortable disease.
who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you
If you like my poems let them walk in the evening, a little behind you
Life ,for eternal us,is now
The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
Such was a poet and shall be and is -who'll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam's architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain's heartbeat in his hand.
You shall above all things be glad and young.
i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes (i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay great happening illimitably earth) how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any--lifted from the no of all nothing--human merely being doubt unimaginable You? (now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
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