Enclave life becomes very tense, Even when they do elect a leader, the factions remain, with the threat of splitting off.
There is a good look that I wear like a blood clot. I have sewn it over my left breast. I have made a vocation of it.
Poems aren't postcards to send home.
There is rust in my mouth,the stain of an old kiss.
It's a little mad, but I believe I am many people. When I am writing a poem, I feel I am the person who should have written it.
If I could blame it on all the mothers and fathers of the world, they of the lessons, the pellets of power, they of the love surrounding you like batter. . . Blame it on God perhaps? He of the first opening that pushed us all into our first mistakes? No, I'll blame it on Man For Man is God and man is eating the earth up like a candy bar and not one of them can be left alone with the ocean for it is known he will gulp it all down. The stars (possibly) are safe. At least for the moment. The stars are pears that no one can reach, even for a wedding. Perhaps for a death.
I would like a simple life yet all night I am laying poems away in a long box.
People are running to and from class and I just want to yell, Slow down and wait for the world to catch up!
The turning point really is just knowing you're an imbecile.
Simplicity is a great element of good breeding.
I made a lot of money with the Chinese, and I know the Chinese very well. By the way, they don't love us. I will tell you that. Just in case anybody has any question. They don't. They always say, "Oh, but they have our debt. " Think of it they take our money and then they loan it back to us and we have to pay 'em interest. It's very. . . It would be something to solve very easily, if you have the right messenger. We don't have the right messenger. Barack Obama is the wrong messenger.