In the dawn of the day when the sea and the earth
Reflected the sunrise above,
I set forth with a heart full of courage and mirth
To seek for the Kingdom of Love.
I asked of a Poet I met on the way
Which cross-road would lead me aright.
And he said: "Follow me, and not long you shall see
Its glittering turrets of light."

And soon in the distance a city shone fair,
"Look yonder," he said; "how it gleams!"
But alas! for the hopes that were doomed to despair,
It was only the "Kingdom of Dreams."

with love
give me your hand
some stranger
is fiction than truth

without love
I'm justa has
been away
too long in the tooth.

I am the love killer,
I am murdering the music we thought so special,
that blazed between us, over and over.
I am murdering me, where I kneeled at your kiss.
I am pushing knives through the hands
that created two into one.
Our hands do not bleed at this,
they lie still in their dishonor.
I am taking the boats of our beds
and swamping them, letting them cough on the sea
and choke on it and go down into nothing.
I am stuffing your mouth with your
promises and watching
you vomit them out upon my face.
The Camp we directed?

Keen, fitful gusts are whisp'ring here and there
Among the bushes half leafless, and dry;
The stars look very cold about the sky,
And I have many miles on foot to fare.
Yet feel I little of the cool bleak air,
Or of the dead leaves rustling drearily,
Or of those silver lamps that burn on high,
Or of the distance from home's pleasant lair:
For I am brimfull of the friendliness
That in a little cottage I have found;
Of fair-hair'd Milton's eloquent distress,
And all his love for gentle Lycid drown'd;

Kanji is drenched in saffron, the damsel drenched in deep orange!
Their eyes drenched with love, they wait at the doors of garden!
Who shall we say is more beautiful? The lord if Vraj or his lover?
When we gaze at the best among men-both are equally priceless pearls!
Kanji is drenched in saffron, the damsel drenched in deep orange!
Their eyes drenched with love, they wait at the doors of garden!

With gait full of frolic, they fly into the garden
And lose themselves completely in the limitless celebrations of colors!

When in the heart of the valleys and hid by the roses
The sweet Love lies,
Has he wings to rise to his heavens or in the closes
Lives and dies?

On the peaks of the radiant mountains if we should meet him
Proud and free,
Will he not frown on the valleys? Would it befit him
Chained to be?

Will you then speak of the one as a slave and a wanton,
The other too bare?
But God is the only slave and the only monarch
We declare.

It is God who is Love and a boy and a slave for our passion
He was made to serve;

Just because
people love your mind,
doesn't mean they
have to have
your body,
too.

NEW YORK, July 20, 1883.
DEAR GIRL:
The town goes on as though
It thought you still were in it;
The gilded cage seems scarce to know
That it has lost its linnet.
The people come, the people pass;
The clock keeps on a-ticking;
And through the basement plots of grass
Persistent weeds are pricking.


I thought ‘twould never come — the Spring —
Since you had left the city;
But on the snow-drifts lingering
At last the skies took pity.
Then Summer’s yellow warmed the sun,
Daily decreasing distance —

I could take the Harlem night
and wrap around you,
Take the neon lights and make a crown,
Take the Lenox Avenue busses,
Taxis, subways,
And for your love song tone their rumble down.
Take Harlem's heartbeat,
Make a drumbeat,
Put it on a record, let it whirl,
And while we listen to it play,
Dance with you till day--
Dance with you, my sweet brown Harlem girl.

When beauty breaks and falls asunder
I feel no grief for it, but wonder.
When love, like a frail shell, lies broken,
I keep no chip of it for token.
I never had a man for friend
Who did not know that love must end.
I never had a girl for lover
Who could discern when love was over.
What the wise doubt, the fool believes--
Who is it, then, that love deceives?