#Americans
At night Chinamen jump on Asia with a thump while in our willful way we, in secret, play affectionate games and bruise
I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in.
It is 12:20 in New York a Friday three days after Bastille day, yes it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshin… because I will get off the 4:19 in… at 7:15 and then go straight to di…
You do not always know what I am… Last night in the warm spring air… blazing my tirade against someone… interest me, it was love for you that set m…
The Sun woke me this morning loud and clear, saying “Hey! I’ve been trying to wake you up for fifteen minutes. Don’t be so rude, you are only the second poet I’ve ever cho…
My quietness has a man in it, he i… and he carries me quietly, like a… He has several likenesses, like st… My quietness has a number of naked… so many pistols I have borrowed to…
When I was a child I played by myself in a corner of the schoolyard all alone. I hated dolls and I
After the first glass of vodka you can accept just about anything of life even your own mysteriousne… you think it is nice that a box of matches is purple and brown and…
I know so much about things, I accept so much, it’s like vomiting. And I am nourished by the
Now when I walk around at lunchti… I have only two charms in my pocke… an old Roman coin Mike Kanemitsu… and a bolt-head that broke off a p… when I was in Madrid the others n…
Mothers of America let your kids go to the movies get them out of the house so they… know what you’re up to it’s true that fresh air is good f…
The opals hiding your lids as you sleep, as you ride ponies mysteriously, spring to bloom like the blue flowers of autumn each nine o’clock. And curls
The eager note on my door said “C… call when you get in!" so I quickl… a few tangerines into my overnight… straightened my eyelids and should… headed straight for the door. It…
So we are taking off our masks, ar… our mouths shut? as if we’d been p… The song of an old cow is not more… than the vapors which escape one’s… so I pull the shadows around me li…