Complete Poems, 1904-1962

may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living whatever they sing is better than to know and if men should not hear them men are old may my mind stroll about hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple and even if it's sunday may i be wrong for whenever men are right they are not young and may myself do nothing usefully and love yourself so more than truly there's never been quite such a fool who could fail pulling all the sky over him with one smile

since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid

love being such, or such, the normal corners of your heart will never guess how much my wonderful jealousy is dark

i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile

hate blows a bubble of despair into hugeness world system universe and bang -fear buries a tomorrow under woe and up comes yesterday most green and young

You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming. Life,for eternal us,is now;and now is much too busy being a little more than everything to seem anything,catastrophic included.

I will not kiss your fucking flag

the hills like poets put on purple thought against the magnificent clamor of day tortured in gold

though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens

May picked up a smooth round stone, As small as a world and as large as alone.

annie died the other day never was there such a lay-- whom,among her dollies,dad first("don't tell your mother")had