I recall that now and I recall everything for what do we have but the past to parent us?

i'm glad to be alive in a world wherehis gently awakening eyesnourish the morning sun.

this heart yearns...for the salt of unsmelt airunswept thunderstorms...unknown adventures.

Deep feeling doesn't make for good poetry. A way with language would be a bit of help.

To see the Summer SkyIs Poetry, though never in a Book it lie—True Poems flee—

But for us the road unfurls itself, we don't stop walking, we know there is far to go.

Não estatize meus sentimentos. Pra seu governo, o meu estado é independente.

Steep fall to the groundshatteringlike clay pigeons missed by bad shotsand unsteady hands.

Some men are born sodomites, some achieve sodomy, and some have sodomy thrust upon them...

I will soothe you and heal you,I will bring you roses.I too have been covered with thorns.

Maybe when water yearned for fire / it invented waves / so one day they might become flames

I act as the tongue of you,... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

A poem is a frozen momentmelted by each reader for themselvesto flow into the here and now.

I could have been 23 next July I gambled on what mattered most, the dice were cast. I lost.

Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.