I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.
I am sending back the keythat let me into bluebeard's study; because he would make love to meI am sending back the key;in his eye's darkroom I can seemy X-rayed heart, dissected body:
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I am gone quite mad with the knowledge of accepting the overwhelming number of things I can never know, places I can never go, and people I can never be.
I am flushed and warm.I think I may be enormous,I am so stupidly happy,My wellingtonsSquelching and squelching through the beautiful red.
I am disabused of all faith, and see too clearly.
I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.
I am both worse and better than you thought.
I also remembered Buddy Willard saying in a sinister, knowing way that after Ihad children I would feel differently, I wouldn't want to write poems any more. So I began to think maybe it was true that...
Hard, sharp, ticks. I hate them. Measuring thought, infinite space, by cogs and wheels. Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, fo...
Feel like the recluse who comes out into the world with a life-saving gospel to find everybody has learned a new language in the meantime and can't understand a word he's saying.
Everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.
Every woman adores a Fascist,The boot in the face, the bruteBrute heart of a brute like you.
Ever since I was small I loved feeling somebody comb my hair. It made me go all sleepy and peaceful.
Doreen had intuition. Everything she said was like a secret voice speaking straight out of my own bones.
And I, love, am a pathological liar.
Your security and love of life don't depend on the presence of another, but only on yourself, your chosen work, and your developing identity. Then you can safely choose to enrich your life by marrying...
You were doing fine, a familiar voice informed my ear, until that man stepped into your path.
You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?
You felt no reality. Only a weariness, a longing for a shoulder to sleep on, a pair of arms to curl up in — and a lack of that now.