Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.
I always thought that writing poetry was in itself a political act.
The winter does what it can for its children.
Silly girls your heads full of boys
Until, accustomed to disappointments, you can let yourself rule and be ruled by these strings or emanations that connect everything together, you haven't fully exorcised the demon of doubt that sets you in motion like a rocking horse that cannot stop rocking.
... the first step of the terrible journey toward feeling somebody should act, that ends in utter confusion and hopelessness, east of the sun and west of the moon.