I have room in me for love, and for ever so many little lives.
I dreamed that you bewitched me into bedAnd sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.(I think I made you up inside my head.)
EnnuiTea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,designing futures where nothing will occur:cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning shewill still predict no perils left to conquer.Jeopardy is jejune now:...
Do you realize the illicit sensuous delight I get from picking my nose? I always have, ever since I was a child. There are so many subtle variations of sensation. A delicate, pointed-nailed fifth fing...
Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream
And of course I didn't know who would marry me now that I'd been where I had been. I didn't know at all.
The prince leans to the girl in scarlet heels,Her green eyes slant, hair flaring in a fanOf silver as the rondo slows; now reelsBegin on tilted violins to spanThe whole revolving tall glass palace hal...
I must be lean & write & make worlds beside this to live in.
The trouble was, I hated the idea of serving men in any way.
The reason I hadn't washed my clothes or my hair was because it seemed so silly. (...)It seemed silly to wash one day when I would only have to wash it again the next.It made me tired just to think of...
The day I went into physics class it was death.
One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.
It was like the first time i saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward the cadavers head, or what was left of it - floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and in the face of Buddy Willard, who was r...
I wish to cry. Yet, I laugh, and my lipstick leaves a red stain like a bloody crescent moon on the top of the beer can.
I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.
I may have made a straight A in physics, but I was panic-struck. Physics made me sick the whole time I learned it.
And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the sm...
brave love, dreamnot of staunching such strict flame, but come,lean to my wound; burn on, burn on.
If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.
I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.