forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit.and perhaps it will be pleasing to have remembered these things one day

I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

Oh! kangaroos, sequins, chocolate sodas! / You really are beautiful! Pearls, / harmonicas, jujubes, aspirins!

It is difficultto get the news from poemsyet men die miserably every dayfor lackof what is found there.

Second FigSafe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!

The soil under the grass is dreaming of a young forest, and under the pavement the soil is dreaming of grass.

Bridge burned from end to end,and I don't miss you anymore.You delivered silenceI've birthed freedom.

A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain.

Poem in other words may or may not result from inspiration but must (in reader and author alike) produce it--

You can learn more by going to the opera than you ever can by reading Emerson. Like that there are two sexes.

What is a woman that you forsake herAnd the hearth fire and the home acreTo go with that old grey widow-maker?

Hers is a timeless life weaving through other longer lives like a flash of lightning in a clouded evening sky.

So the freshness lives onin a lemon,in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,the proportions, arcane and acerb.

You were the poem I never knew how to write because no words could describe the wind you cannot see, but feel.

I sell black markers on the black market. I am personally responsible for 50% of all truck stop urinal poetry.