God, let me remember all good losers.
Tell no man anything, for no man listens Yet hold thy lips ready to speak.
And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is romance and big things and real dreams that never go smash.
Come clean with a child heart Laugh as peaches in the summer wind Let rain on a house roof be a song Let the writing on your face be a smell of apple orchards on late June.
Somebody’s little girl- how easy it is to make a sob story over who she once was and who she now is.
Let your heart look on white sea spray and be lonely. Love is a fool star. You and a ring of stars may mention my name and then forget me. Love is a fool star.
I take you and pile high the memories. Death will break her claws on some I keep.
I was up day and night with Lincoln for years. I couldn’t have picked a better companion.
An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
We live in the time of the colossal upright oblong.
I’ll die propped up in bed trying to do a poem about America.
POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines of a doorknob with thumb-prints of dust, blood, dreams.
Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time.
There will be a rusty gun on the wall, sweetheart, The rifle grooves curling with flakes of rust. A spider will make a silver string nest in the darkest, warmest corner of it.
Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Tongues wrangled dark at a man. He buttoned his overcoat and stood alone. In a snowstorm, red hollyberries, thoughts, he stood alone.
Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
The buffaloes are gone. And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.