Evil is maybe lying to God. Or better, lying to love.
Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole.
Yes, I know. Death sits with his key in my lock. Not one day is taken for granted. Even nursery rhymes have put me in hock.
There is no word for time. Today we will not think to number another summer or watch its white bird into the ground.
I tied down time with a rope but it came back. Then I put my head in a death bowl and my eyes shut up like clams. They didn’t come back.
Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.
Of course the New Testament is very small. Its mouth opens four times as out-of-date as a prehistoric monster, yet somehow man-made...
Once upon a time we were all born, popped out like jelly rolls forgetting our fishdom, the pleasuring seas, the country of comfort, spanked into the oxygens of death...
I’m an empress. I wear an apron. My typewriter writes. It didn’t break the way it warned. Even crazy, I’m as nice as a chocolate bar.
I see myself as one would see another. I have been cut in two.
There is joy in all: in the hair I brush each morning, in the Cannon towel, newly washed, that I rub my body with each morning...
Inside many of us is a small old man who wants to get out.
When I lie down to love, old dwarf heart shakes her head. Like an imbecile she was born old.
I have forgiven all the old actors for dying. A new one comes on with the same lines, like large white growths, in his mouth. The dancers come on from the wings, perfectly mated.
Our eyes are full of terrible confessions.
Maybe, although my heart is a kitten of butter, I am blowing it up like a zeppelin.
It is a dead heart. It is inside of me. It is a stranger yet once it was agreeable, opening and closing like a clam.
Big heart, wide as a watermelon, but wise as birth, there is so much abundance in the people I have...
My safe, safe psychosis is broken. It was hard. It was made of stone. It covered my face like a mask. But it has cracked.
If the doctors cure then the sun sees it. If the doctors kill then the earth hides it. The doctors should fear arrogance more than cardiac arrest.