“The burden of living one’s own life is experiencing sensations that no one else can share."

I could imagine the house beginning to take off too and I sat down as if to pin it to the ground

I wish he would recognize that and stop farting on me so that at least I could respect myself as he respects himself

Why is there hurt and sorrow? Scissors, cut them off from me. 

Then I will live a long and exciting life, simply by standing upright.

If I were the grass that covers the graves I could forget being human.

I came upon the poem the way the hunter discovers the animal in the bush, with shock.

Neither tree leans towards or away from the other. I could be a social device to keep decorum between them in public.

Climb, then, they whisper, and live.
Climb, then, I reply strongly, and die.

Now that we have ordered well may we turn back
upon suffering; after the fixed moments and precision,
to seek comfort in release. Peace being with us,

I am about to close my refrigerator after removing a package of meat when I hear my door lock turning and a crew of men, without so much as first knocking, walk in.

I dream I hurl a spear into the body of my love. I am brutal, but the spear begins to glow along its shaft and transfixes me. I stand covered in its radiance, unable to move, magnetized towards the spear that I reach out to touch and then grasp and stroke and carry myself forward along its length until I have touched the body of my love itself at the point where the spear has entered. I sob, I shake in convulsions and the body of my love bends forward to comfort me as I support myself against it in a paroxysm of leaving my body.

once more I had entered the stream of things to become part of America

Dear fellow gull, a question or two for you to answer, if you care to.

I miss a social life. I know I made myself for that.