«I am Goya / of the bare field, by the enemy’s beak gouged / till the craters of my eyes gape / I am grief I am the tongue / of war, the embers of cities / on the snows of the year 1941 / I am hunger I am the gullet / of a woman hanged whose body like a bell / tolled over a blank ...»
«You will awaken me at dawn / And barefoot lead me to the door; / You’ll not forget me when I’m gone, / You will not see me anymore. Lord, I think, in shielding you / From the cold wind of the open door: / I’ll not forget you when I’m gone, / I shall not see you anymore. The Adm...»
«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...»