I wear leather underwear!
We continue to speak, if only in whispers, to something inside us that longs to be named.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake
Good writing works from a simple premise: your experience is not yours alone, but in some sense a metaphor for everyone's.
That's how it is sometimes--God comes to your window, all bright light and black wings, and you're just too tired to open it.
The changes that have occurred in poetry have been minor when you look at it over the scale of human time. It's like a rose, maybe a hybrid with color and size differentials, but the same genus, plucked from the same original blowsy family.
A poem is like a child; at some point we have to let it go and trust that it will make its own way in the world.
Just because no one can understand how you speak, Don't necessarily mean that what you be sayin is deep.
It is not easy to explain how I felt while I read, but I will try. No doubt you, as a reader, will understand. It appeared I found myself in a place where no one could bother me, where no one could reach me. I grew impervious to all the noises around me.
No. Don't never go looking for love girl. Just wait. It'll come. Like the rain fallin' from the heaven, it'll come. Just don't never give up on love.
It is the little rift within the lute That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.