Is everything a joke to you?” I asked. He dabbed his tongue to his lip again. “Not everything. ” “Like what?” “You.
Rocks crumble, make new forms, oceans move the continents, mountains rise up and down like ghosts yet all is natural, all is change.
Poems aren't postcards to send home.
There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
If I could blame it on all the mothers and fathers of the world, they of the lessons, the pellets of power, they of the love surrounding you like batter. . . Blame it on God perhaps? He of the first opening that pushed us all into our first mistakes? No, I'll blame it on Man For Man is God and man is eating the earth up like a candy bar and not one of them can be left alone with the ocean for it is known he will gulp it all down. The stars (possibly) are safe. At least for the moment. The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
I would like a simple life yet all night I am laying poems away in a long box.
Some things can be fixed. Some things are just too broken.
People often ask me if I consider myself to be an architect, fashion designer, or artist. I'm an architect. The paintings I've done are very important to me, but they were part of a process of thinking and developing.
IF you Salute your work,You do not have to salute anybody. IF you pollute your work,You have to salute everybody.
The. 350 hitter expects, and also deserves, a big payoff for his performance - even if he plays for a cellar-dwelling team. And a. 150 hitter should get no reward - even if he plays for a pennant winner.