The soul is hungry in spring, and there is only the crisp, silent air to feed it.
Speaking of marvels, I am alive
together with you, when I might have been
alive with anyone under the sun
A stillness which is very nearly mineral
Keeps insisting upon the essential
Loneliness with which this light is filled.
My God! The man with long white hair
waiting for an elevator on the thirteenth floor
is Edgar Winter, blear-eyed from a night
spent raising the roof at the Fillmore East.
It was hard to tell if they were raising or lowering it
into or out of the Parisian light.
His cat mourned better than I, lying
on her side for weeks across his room’s threshold
Once we sneaked out of a slumber party
tiptoed onto an icy bridge
still in our babydoll pajamas and
froze our prissy asses off
There is no lasting happiness
in this world, only
particles of happiness,
transitory as a fragrance
or a falling leaf
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!