Silent Slaves

I think someone is dead No, no, not the daily dead and dying But someone who is close to me She cut me off once, saying I am muddy water I think of a postcard she wrote to me Open, to my office address, with tenderness...

Make me special-blind
Show me only my friends,
Those two or three.

Saw you walk by A little boldly today. I turned away, but only a little Worried that my very look at you, Would afflict both of us. You with more derision of me, I with more longing for you. How I yearn to talk to you...

Seeing you first, I rushed From first fill of the heart, To first tenderness of a poem Seeing me then, you stared With that diamond look of silence Black from your black eyes Shimmering from your shining face Blinding...

Most beautiful people are in my head. Why then, when I open my lips, My crazy fingers, and My blossoming heart To speak to them, To write to them, To listen to them They tell me that my lips are foul, My eyes are...