I love you. I love you, but I’m turning to my verses and my heart is closing like a fist.

I wouldn’t want to be faster or greener than now if you were with me O you were the best of all my days!

My Heart I'm not going to cry all the time nor shall I laugh all the time, I don't prefer one "strain" to another. I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie, not just a sleeper, but also the big, overproduced first-run kind. I want to be at least as alive as the vulgar. And if some aficionado of my mess says "That's not like Frank!," all to the good! I don't wear brown and grey suits all the time, do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera, often. I want my feet to be bare, I want my face to be shaven, and my heart--you can't plan on the heart, but the better part of it, my poetry, is open.

Pain always produces logic, which is very bad for you.

I have been to lots of parties and acted perfectly disgraceful but I never actually collapsed oh Lana Turner we love you get up

And always embrace things, people earth sky stars, as I do, freely and with the appropriate sense of space.

life perpetuated in parti-colored loves and beautiful lies all in different languages.