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And the story of love is a long sad tale ending in graves.

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So shut up, live, travel, adventure, bless and don't be sorry

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In winter night Massachusetts Street is dismal, the ground's frozen cold, the ruts and pock holes have ice, thin snow slides over the jagged black cra...more

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And at night the river flows, it bears pale stars on the holy water, some sink like veils, some show like fish, the great moon that once was rose now ...more

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Let me sing the beauty of my Maggie. Legs:--the knees attached to the thighs, knees shiny, thighs like milk. Arms:--the levers of my content, the serp...more

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Parade my trouble in front of you guys? Make you realize that my heart is broken . . . that as long as I live I'll have chains dragging me down to the...more

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Never dreaming, was I, poor Jack Duluoz, that the soul is dead. That from Heaven grace descends . . . No Doctor Pisspot Poorpail to tell me; no exampl...more

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Love is bitter, death is sweet.

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Down on the lake rosy reflections of celestial vapor appeared, and I said, "God, I love you" and looked to the sky and really meant it. "I have fallen...more