«In a phone-booth, eyes in tears, / Stands a young girl, all distraught, / Hides her face, with lipstick smeared, / Deep into her flimsy coat. Skinny fingers cup her face. / Fingers — sting. And earrings — blaze. All alone she must retreat / Back on down the frozen street. It’s th...»
«There was painter once, / Owned a small home and his art. / But there’s an actress he loved, / Flowers were dear to her heart. So he sold his house on a whim — / His art and his roof, undeterred — / And spent all the money to buy / A whole sea of flowers for her. A million, milli...»
«In Rome at the New Year it is the custom to throw old things into the street. Rome rattles and shakes / like a runaway breakdown truck. / All over Rome and round about / the New Year’s coming in! Like Mills bombs, bottles / dropped from windowsills. / crash all over the place, / and ...»
«Motor-scooter roaring / past the sanatorium! Behind the handlebars / like Rublyov angels: loving riders. As in the fresco of the Annunciation / with its strident white tone / see their women scattering a shine / behind them, like wings on their spine! The splaying of their dress! / Tu...»