#Americans #Jews #Women
Little egg, little nub, full complement of fingers, toes, little rose blooming
We used to strike sparks off each other. Our eyes would meet or our hands, & the blue lightning of love
You-the purest pleasure of my life, the split pit that proves the ripeness of the fruit,
Rising in the morning like warm bread, from a bed in America, the aroma
The first snow of the year & you lying between my breasts in my husband’s house & the snow gently rising in my… like guilt,
I sit at home at my desk alone as I used to do on many sunday afternoons when you came back to me,
All the boring tedious young men with dead eyes & dirty hair .… all the mad young men who hate the… all the squalling baby boys . . . have grown up
Not wanting to write for fear that anything– the passion for the page, the love of carbon ribbons & e… will distract me from your face,
The man giving birth in the dark has died & come back to life again, is stretching out his arms
I sleep with double pillows since… Is one of them for you-or is it yo… My bed is heaped with books of poe… I fall asleep on yellow legal pads… Oh the orgies in stationery stores…
When the devil brings him, like a Christmas puppy, examine his downy fur & smell his small paws for the scent of sulphur.
Endless duplication of lives and o… —Theodore Roethke I have known the imperial power of… the awesome indifference of recept… I have been intimidated by desk &a…
Already six years past your age! The steps in Rome, the house near Hampstead Heath, & all your fears that you might cease to be
There is a white wood house near… in whose garden the nightingale st… Though Keats is dead, the bird wh… returns with melodies, on easeful… A lock of hair the poet’s love rec…
The man under the bed The man who has been there for yea… The man who waits for my floating… The man who is silent as dustballs… The man whose breath is the breath…