January 26, 1906
Forty-seven days have passed and the bananas in my kitchen are still green. They remain untouched and unmoved since I brought them home from market. To my eye they appea
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the love poems roll out of this machine
endless,
and full offense--
hackneyed.
you feed it everything and yet
it couldn't print you for all the world, or me
you, with your heart of clear air and
your wide and guileless eyes
that dart away, as do our hands
in fists
because people break what they touch
or break the spell, with words
the poet had better leave alone.
endless,
and full offense--
hackneyed.
you feed it everything and yet
it couldn't print you for all the world, or me
you, with your heart of clear air and
your wide and guileless eyes
that dart away, as do our hands
in fists
because people break what they touch
or break the spell, with words
the poet had better leave alone.