Bedmate
having left my talk
I hear you who I am
newly present to
the plain life
of your heart is to me
as large as the weather
where we go together
to bed and so
to sleep
Poems on the topic: love
Poems on the topic “love” on Poets.by.
Lovers’ conversation
her mouth pretty as night
the rose I lock my mouth to
saying her fill
Romantic chemistry
love could experiment
with her two bodies
could discover the way of milk
coming into the breasts
could invent tastes
or find a way to ferment a kiss
like a poet who never saw
a heart at rest
Sweet talker
among the things I am
live many expressions of love
an art with great satisfaction
to me and my dog
Eros
taking the rope-maker
to his rope-ground
and the stove
to drink some light
we touch and see
how they speak of us
our hands
more than the mouth
Love craft
I made a stick sweetheart
but unwilling to keep her
I sent her away
to the cranes in the fields
but I did make her think
of making herself happy
with her strange fellow cranes
in the dirt and the marl
ingenious treasurers
of time and folly
where one is free
there is great plenty
I want her still
took her a glass of pure water
and hewed her
a thin ice bed
Auld acquaintance
the whole year as large
as one kiss in the kitchen
the fire is new and hot
and are we happy loving
the little death no reason
for hurry now
we bless with mouth to ear
that sudden note
Yucca moth
infinite crow of time
night desert
if love takes every turn
to find a moth
then I with my heart
have just a while
Bodily questions
in the book of the body
is there no other writing true as romance
which is true and which false
of two children perfectly made
joined at their bellies
and only one pair of legs
what work will make us fear
the consequence of it
how is holding you
so large a music
Progeny
I spent all morning preserving
a collection of cries
work and desire
greed and fear and love
to show publicly if I should die
without children
Kissing gate
would a gate have equal share
in the translation between us
touching at first
and open as a road
giving both me and you
our own past
The book-lover’s blues
chance is a good companion
but needs are the greatest confidants
I love sometimes
and sometimes I do not care
a woman is lovely but I suffer
God forgive me for my books
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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