Nothing that truly mattersCan ever evaporate,Be excised,Burnt out of your soul.

In fact she herself once blamed meKyprogeneiabecause I prayed this word:I want.

When the Brooklyn rain comes downhopefully it will be to fuckin' wake you up

Oh, the summer night / HAS A SMILE OF LIGHT / And she sits on a sapphire throne.

There are countless circles of hell; believers never penetrate the ninth circle.

Hands burn for a stone, a bomb, to shiver down the glass. Nothing's changed.

Almost every truly creative being alienated & expatriated in his own country

You are that one breath. that puts all the remaining breaths. back into my body.

No one understands now. Those who couldhear a song this deeply vanished long ago.

... this longing inside me that never goes away, must be a poem...must be you ...

You were, arecactus tourism. meeting you: granularfractals borrowed from oceans.

the light too brief to finish any work —the woman seeks to amplify the dark

How....will I ever truly depict you?You’re perfect, my writing isn’t.

poetry is the tombstone of experience,nothing i write is my own.~from "the damned

If what we think of ourselves were true, the planet would overflow with geniuses.