#Americans #Jews #Women
This is the long tunnel of wanting… Its walls are lined with remembere… wet & red as the inside of you… full & juicy as your probing t… warm as your belly against mine,
Rising in the morning like warm bread, from a bed in America, the aroma
I love to go to sleep, When bed takes me like a lover wrapping my limbs in cool linen, soothing the fretfulness
Your slit so like mine: the woman of it, the warm womanwide of thigh, & the comfort of it– knowing your nipples like mine,
Mute marriages: the ten-ton block of ice obstructing the throat, the heart, the red filter of the liver, the clogged life.
Boswell– you old rake– I have tri… your style; but it is no use; my d… all between my selves: and though… make endless notes and jottings th… my memory– it is in vain– for in t…
Meathooks, notebooks, the whole city sky palely flaming & spectral bombs hitting that patch of river I see from my eastern window.
If you ask him he will talk for ho… how at fourteen he hammered signs,… raw with cold, and later painted b… in ladies’ boudoirs; how he played… for two weeks in jail, and lived o…
Dearest man-in-the-moon, ever since our lunch of cheese & moonjuice on the far side of the sun, I have walked the craters of New…
When I am an old lady the young men will come to me & sit trembling at my trembling
Because he dreams of seeding the w… his eyes bite She looks He looks away He is snow-blind from staring at her breasts
Kabir says the breath inside the breath is God & I say to Kabir you are the breath inside that bre…
. .Who shall measure the heat and violence of the poet’s heart when… and tangled in a woman’s body? —Virginia Woolf Every month,
Sometimes the poem doesn’t want to come; it hides from the poet like a playful cat who has run
All night he lies awake tuning the… tuning the night with its fat crac… with its melancholy love songs cro… across the rainy air above Verdun & the autobahn’s blue suicidal…