Somewhere in the night a human being is drowning.
After great pain, a formal feeling comes – The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs – The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round – Of Ground, or Air, or Ought – A Wooden wa...
Wild Nights – Wild Nights! Were I with thee Wild Nights should be Our luxury! Futile – the winds – To a heart in port – Done with the compass – Done with the chart! Rowing in Eden – Ah, the sea! Might I moor – Tonight – In thee!
When I was young and miserable and pretty And poor, I'd wish What all girls wish: to have a husband, A house and children. Now that I'm old, my wish Is womanish: That the boy putting groceries in my car See me.
...when the petals fall Say it is beautiful and good, say it is well
I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breaths and work can be done. Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts. The past, never at rest, flows through it.
It is time I came back to my real life After this voyage to an island with no name, Where I lay down at sunrise drunk with light.
it's spring and the goat-footed balloonMan whistles far and wee
So much depends upon A red wheel barrow Glazed with rain water Beside the white chickens.
Out of love, No regrets-- Though the goodness Be wasted forever. Out of love, No regrets-- Though the return Be never.
One need not be a Chamber — to be Haunted — One need not be a House — The Brain has Corridors — surpassing Material Place —
Even this late it happens: the coming of love, the coming of light.
The Soul selects her own Society— Then—shuts the Door— To her divine Majority— Present no more— Unmoved—she notes the Chariots—pausing— At her low Gate— Unmoved—an Emperor be kneeling Upon her Mat— I've known her—from an ample...
This is the Hour of Lead – Remembered, if outlived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow – First – Chill – then Stupor – then the letting go –
And marbled clouds go scudding by The many-steepled London sky.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.
My heart was full of softening showers, I used to swing like this for hours, I did not care for war or death, I was glad to draw my breath.
I opened my veins. Unstoppably life spurts out with no remedy. Now I set out bowls and plates. Every bowl will be shallow. Every plate will be small. And overflowing their rims, into the black earth, to nourish the rushes unstoppably without cure, gu...
