The lightning and thunder
They go and they come:
But the stars and the stillness
Are always at home.

A baby's cradle with no baby in it,
A baby's grave where autumn leaves drop sere;
The sweet soul gathered home to Paradise,
The body waiting here.

at the track today,
Father's Day,
each paid admission was
entitled to a wallet
and each contained a
little surprise.

Thinking hard about you
I got on the bus
and paid 30 cents car fare
and asked the driver for two transfers
before discovering
that I was
alone.

Hun har saa skønt fra Naturen
en Holdning i store Drag,
at man vilde kysse Konturen
af hendes For og bag,
selvom hun laa forstenet
og kold i en Sarkofag.

Everybody wants to go to bed
with everybody else, they're
lined up for blocks, so I'll
go to bed with you. They won't
miss us.

After the dance we cross the oval in pairs
to the steep bank behind the softball field.
The hall is bolted shut, teachers pass in the dark,
smoking and talking on the way to their cars.
It’s cold on the ground, my buttons loose to the sky.

she tries to get things
out of men
that she can't get
because she's not
15% prettier

»Works« are dead rock, sprung from resounding chisel,
When the master is at work, chipping away at his living self.
»Works« announce the mind as pupas announce the butterfly:
»Look, it left me behind – lifeless – and fluttered away.«
»Works« are like reeds, Midas' whispering reeds,
Spreading secrets long after having ceased to be true.

One who runs away from the books,
Runs away from one’s mental liberation…
One who runs towards the books,
Runs towards one’s intellectual enlightenment…