poetry

"Not everything can be felt and not everything will be ever understood."

"When no one is looking,I swallow deserts and cloudsand chew on mountainsknowing they are sweet bones!When no one is lookingand I want to kiss God,I just lift my own hand to my mouth."

"You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket."

"Let your life lightly dance on the edges of Time like dew on the tip of a leaf."

"Don't use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry."

"sometimes i don't know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over againi miss you better in the rain."

"Every word was once a poem."

"i found god in myselfand i loved heri loved her fiercely"

"But one kiss levitates above all the others. Theintersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.The I’ll love you through a brick wall kiss.Even when I’m dead, I’ll swim through the Earth,like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones."

"Resist much, obey little."

"The poetry of the earth is never dead."

"...if you do not even understand what words say,how can you expect to pass judgementon what words conceal?"

"To elevate the soul, poetry is necessary."

"God moves in mysterious waysHis wonders to performs"

"I arise from dreams of thee,And a spirit in my feetHas led me- who knows how?To thy chamber-window, Sweet!"

"Hinged to forgetfulness like a door,she slowly closed out of sight,and she was the woman I loved,but too many times she slept likea mechanical deer in my caresses,and I ached in the metal silenceof her dreams."

"down with hell and heaven and all the religious fussinfinity pleased our parents one inch looks good to us"

"It was a dance of masks and every mask was perfect because every mask was a real face and every face was areal mask so there was no mask and there was no face for there was but one dance in which there was butone mask but one true face which was the same and which was a thing without a name which changed andchanged into itself over and over."

"Still round the corner there may wait A new road or a secret gateAnd though I oft have passed them by A day will come at last when IShall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun."

"If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all."