Go so deep into yourself, you speak for everyone.
I will find that special person who is wrong for me in just the right way.
Thats the way it is with poetry: When it is incomprehensible it seems profound, and when you understand it, it is only ridiculous.
Never mind. The self is the least of it. Let our scars fall in love.
Prose is walking; poetry is flying
When I sleepwalk into your room, and pick you up, and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me hard, as if clinging could save us. I think you think I will never die, I think I exude to you the permanence of smoke or stars, even as my broken arms heal themselves around you.