To look at beauty and never make it yours.
If it weren’t this way you’d look at yourself
that is you’d have nothing more to look at,

Very simple love that believes in words,
since I cannot do what I want to do,
can neither hug nor kiss you,

When, thanks to the virtues of wine,
I let go of solid memory and a certain pleasure
seems almost real to me

You sit at the head of the table
heady with wine,
and hold forth,

One evening, after the sun (and not only the sun) had gone down in the west, the Jew went for a walk, that is to say he stepped out of his hut and went for a walk, the Jew, the son of a Jew, and his name went with him, his unspeakable name, as he walked and went on and went shuffling along

Into the distance, the stacked-up whiteness
and beyond, endless,
the sleightrace of the lost.

It is time that the stone let itself break into flower,
that the unresting heart beat.

I told you
When you buy monkeys
You have to take the ones that are very lively and who almost scare you

Three prisoners get a hold of guns
They kill their jailer and grab the prison keys
They come running out of their cells and kill four guards in the courtyard

You said if you write me
Don’t type everything
Add a line in your own hand