THROW roses on the sea where the dead went down.
  The roses speak to the sea,
  And the sea to the dead.
Throw roses, O lovers-
  Let the leaves wash on the salt in the sun.

Night from a railroad car window
Is a great, dark, soft thing
Broken across with slashes of light.

SHAKE back your hair, O red-headed girl.
Let go your laughter and keep your two proud freckles on your chin.
Somewhere is a man looking for a red-headed girl and some day maybe he will look into your eyes for a restaurant cashier and find a lover, maybe.
Around and around go ten thousand men hunting a red headed girl with two freckles on her chin.
I have seen them hunting, hunting.
  Shake back your hair; let go your laughter.

MY people are gray,
  pigeon gray, dawn gray, storm gray.
I call them beautiful,
  and I wonder where they are going.

Let a joy keep you.
Reach out your hands
And take it when it runs by,
As the Apache dancer
Clutches his woman.
I have seen them
Live long and laugh loud,
Sent on singing, singing,
Smashed to the heart
Under the ribs
With a terrible love.
Joy always,
Joy everywhere--
Let joy **** you!
Keep away from the little deaths.

THE SEA rocks have a green moss.
The pine rocks have red berries.
I have memories of you.
  
Speak to me of how you miss me.
Tell me the hours go long and slow.
  
Speak to me of the drag on your heart,
The iron drag of the long days.
  
I know hours empty as a beggar's tin cup on a rainy day, empty as a soldier's sleeve with an arm lost.
  
Speak to me ...

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
     universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
     reach my hands and play with pebbles of
     destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
     reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
     in the universe.

I* became insane, with long intervals of horrible *sanity.

I'm in the back of your mind.
I'm just that cardboard box of old memories that everyone
leaves on the top shelf,
Allowing it to dust over.
She's in the front of your mind.
She's the box of prized possessions
You look at and think about every day.
What do I mean to you?
Nothing?
Nothing at all?
I want to mean something to you,
I want to mean more than a dusty cardboard box.