The best Author's Poems

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I often repeat silently
that you must live in rememberance only
when few days are left to me.
What is past
is as if never was.
The past is a lace that
clenches at my throat to my mind
and takes energy from facing my present.
The past is only the smoke
of who hasn't lived.
What I have already seen
doesn't mean anything anymore.
The past and the future
aren't reality but only fleeting illusions.
I must be free from time
and live the present since there isn't any other time
than this wonderful moment.

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There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

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We Never Know How High We Are

We never know how high we are
Till we are asked to rise
And then if we are true to plan
Our statures touch the skies -

The Heroism we recite
Would be a normal thing
Did not ourselves the Cubits warp
For fear to be a King.

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You're my bondage and my freedom,
my flesh burning like a naked summer night,
you're my country.
Hazel eyes marbled green,
you're awesome, beautiful, and brave,
you're my desire always just out of reach.

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Driver drive faster and make a good run
Down the Springfield Line under the shining sun.
Fly like an aeroplane, don't pull up short
Till you brake for Grand Central Station, New York.
For there in the middle of the waiting-hall
Should be standing the one that I love best of all.
If he's not there to meet me when I get to town
I'll stand on the side-walk with tears rolling down.
For he is the one that I love to look on,
The acme of kindness and perfection.
He presses my hand and he says he loves me,
Which I find a admirable peculiarity.
The woods are bright green on both sides of the line,
The trees have their loves though they're different from mine.
But the poor fat old banker in the sun-parlour car
Has no one to love him except his cigar.
If I were the Head of the Church or the State,
I'd powder my nose and just tell them to wait.
For love's more important and powerful than
Ever a priest or a politician.

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Jazz killed itself
But dont let poetry kill itself
Dont be afraid
of the cold night air
Dont listen to institutions
When you return manuscripts to
brownstone
dont bow and scuffle
for Edith Wharton pioneers
or ursula major nebraska prose
just hang in your own backyard
and laugh play pretty
cake trombone
and if somebody gives you beads
juju, jew, or otherwise,
sleep with em around your neck
Your dreams'll maybe better
There's no rain
there's no me
I'm telling ya man
sure as shit.

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I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

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If I die, survive me with such a pure force
you make the pallor and the coldness rage;
flash your indelible eyes from south to south,
from sun to sun, till your mouth sings like a guitar.
I don't want your laugh or your footsteps to waver;
I don't want my legacy of happiness to die;
don't call to my breast: I'm not there.
Live in my absence as in a house.
Absence is such a large house
that you'll walk through the walls,
hang pictures in sheer air.
Absence is such a transparent house
that even being dead I will see you there,
and if you suffer, Love, I'll die a second time.

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I'm a tranquillizer,
I act at home,
I work in the office,
I face exams,
I show up for the hearing,
I glue together carefully broken cups -
you only have to take me,
make me melt under your tongue,
you only have to swallow me
with a sip of water.
I know how to treat unhappiness,
how to face bad news,
reduce justice,
risk the absence of God,
choosing a nice little mourning hat.
What are you waiting for -
trust in chemical pity.
You're still a young man (woman),
you should sort yourself out somehow.
Who said life should be lived with courage?
Give me your abyss -
I'll stuff it with sleep.
You'll be grateful for your standing fall.
Sell me your soul.
There won't be another buyer.
There isn't another devil anymore.

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I am a poet, a unanimous
cry, am
a cleat of dreams
a fruit
of innumerable conflicting grafts
ripened in the hothouse
But the same earth bears
your people
as carries me
Italy
In this, the uniform
of your soldier, I rest
as if
it were the cradle
of my father
Cease murdering the dead.
If you hope not to perish, if you
Want sound of them again,
Stop crying out, cease
The crying out of it.
They have a barely heard whispering,
No more than the increase of grass,
Happy where no man passes.