In a middle of a roomstands a suicidesniffing a Paper rosesmiling to a selfsomewhere it is Spring and sometimespeople are in real:imaginesomewhere real flowers,butI can't imagine real flowers for if I...
If everything happens that can't be done(and anything's righterthan bookscould plan)the stupidest teacher will almost guess(with a runskiparound we go yes)there's nothing as something as oneone hasn't...
When to me youleap and I’m born we
Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are by somebody who can love
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),It's always our self we find in the sea.
A moon swims out of a clouda clock strikes midnight
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star...
Ако не можеш да ядеш ще трябва дапушиш а нямаменищо за пушене:хайде хлапеда заспиваме вечеако не можеш да пушиш ще трябва даПееш а нямаменищо за пеене; хайде хлапеда заспиваме вечеако не можеш да пееш...
What time is it?its is by every stara different time,and each most falsely true ...
Though i have closed myself as fingers,you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
I remember we all cried like the Missouriwhen my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched becausesomebody pressed a button(and down wentmy uncle
I go you go,my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling)
A total stranger one black dayknocked living the hell out of me-who found forgiveness hard becausemy(as it happened)self he was
O sweet spontaneous earth how often have the doting fingers of prurient philosophers pinched and poked thee , has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty . how often have religions taken the...
Nobody loses all the time.
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
In Just-spring when the world is mud-luscious the littlelame balloonmanwhistles far and weeand eddieandbill comerunning from marbles andpiracies and it'sspringwhen the world...
Me up at doesout of the floorquietly Starea poisoned mousestill who aliveis asking What
I was too tired to think. I merely felt the town as a unique unreality. What was it? I knew -- the moon's picture of a town. These streets with their houses did not exist, they were but a ludicrous pr...
I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.