the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople... you and i are human beings; mostpeople are snobs.

It may take two people to make a really beautiful mistake.

Sweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love.

I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.

our can'ts were born to happen our mosts have died in more

The mind is its own beautiful prisoner. Mind looked long at the sticky moon opening in dusk her new wings then decently hanged himself,one afternoon. The last thing he saw was you naked amid unnaked things.

Meanwhile myself et cetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera.)