“I want to summon the eyes and hidden mouths of stone and light and water to testify against you.”

“When you call me close to tell me your body is not beautiful I want to summon the eyes and hidden mouths of stone and light and water to testify against you. ”

“I can't run no more with that lawless crowd while the killers in high places say their prayers out loud. But they've summoned, they've summoned up a thundercloud and they're going to hear from me. Ring the bells that still can ring Forget your perfect offering There is a crack in everything That's how the light gets in.”

“A Kite is a VictimA kite is a victim you are sure of.You love it because it pullsgentle enough to call you master,strong enough to call you fool;because it liveslike a desperate trained falconin the high sweet air,and you can always haul it downto tame it in your drawer.A kite is a fish you have already caughtin a pool where no fish come,so you play him carefully and long,and hope he won't give up,or the wind die down.A kite is the last poem you've writtenso you give it to the wind,but you don't let it gountil someone finds yousomething else to do.A kite is a contract of glorythat must be made with the sun,so you make friends with the fieldthe river and the wind,then you pray the whole cold night before,under the travelling cordless moon,to make you worthy and lyric and pure.GiftYou tell me that silenceis nearer to peace than poemsbut if for my giftI brought you silence(for I know silence)you would sayThis is not silencethis is another poemand you would hand it back to meThere are some menThere are some menwho should have mountainsto bear their names through timeGrave markers are not high enoughor greenand sons go far away to lose the fisttheir father’s hand will always seemI had a friend he lived and diedin mighty silence and with dignityleft no book son or lover to mourn.Nor is this a mourning songbut only a naming of this mountainon which I walkfragrant, dark and softly whiteunder the pale of mistI name this mountain after him.-Believe nothing of meExcept that I felt your beautymore closely than my own.I did not see any cities burn,I heard no promises of endless night,I felt your beautymore closely than my own.Promise me that I will return.--When you call me closeto tell meyour body is not beautifulI want to summonthe eyes and hidden mouthsof stone and light and waterto testify against you.-SongI almost went to bedwithout rememberingthe four white violetsI put in the button-holeof your green sweaterand how i kissed you thenand you kissed meshy as though I'dnever been your lover -Reach into the vineyard of arteries for my heart.Eat the fruit of ignorance and share with me the mist andfragrance of dying.-”

“Except for a couple of hours in the morning which I passed in the company of a sage I stayed in bed without food only a few mouthfuls of water “you are a fine looking old man” I said to myself in the mirror “and what is more you have the correct attitude You don’t care if it ends or if it goes on And as for the women and the music there will be plenty of that in Paradise” Then I went to the Mosque of Memory to express my gratitude ”

“As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder. ”

“I dreamed about you baby.It was just the other night. Most of you was nakedAh, but some of you was light.”