A shoe with legs, a stone dropped from heaven, he does his mournful work alone, he is the old prospector for golf, with secret dreams of God-heads and fish heads.…

Live or die, but don’t poison everything… Well, death’s been here for a long time — it has a hell of a lot to do with hell and suspicion of…

I am surprised to see that the ocean is still going on. Now I am going back and I have ripped my hand from your hand as I said I…

“Do you like me?” I asked the blue blazer. No answer. Silence bounced out of his books. Silence fell off his tongue and sat between us and clogged my throat.…

Someone is dead. Even the trees know it, those poor old dancers who come on lewdly, all pea-green scarfs and spine pole. I think… I think I could have stopped…

Being kissed on the back of the knee is a moth at the windowscreen and yes my darling a dot on the fathometer is tinkerbelle with her cough and twice…

Kind Sir: This is an old game that we played when we were eight and ten. Sometimes on The Island, in down Maine, in late August, when the cold fog…

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…

Just once I knew what life was for. In Boston, quite suddenly, I understood; walked there along the Charles River, watched the lights copying themselves, all neoned and strobe-hearted, opening…

Everything here is yellow and green. Listen to its throat, its earthskin, the bone dry voices of the peepers as they throb like advertisements. The small animals of the woods…