“you cannot move to a higher level untill you accept fully where you are at”

“At the heart of ech of us,whatever the imperfections..exists a silent pulse of perfect rhythm....which connect us to the universe.”

“Remember when I moved in you and the holy dove was moving too, and every breath we drew was, "Hallelujah.”

“There were a lot of terms you had to learn, as opposed to the shylock business where all you had to know how to say was 'Give me the fuckin money.”

“Now suzanne takes you handAnd she leads you to the riverShe is wearing rags and feathersFrom salvation army countersAnd the sun pours down like honeyOn our lady of the harbourAnd she shows you where to lookAmong the garbage and the flowersThere are heroes in the seaweedThere are children in the morningThey are leaning out for loveAnd they will lean that way foreverWhile suzanne holds the mirrorAnd you want to travel with herAnd you want to travel blindAnd you know that she will trust youFor shes touched your perfect body with her mind.”

“In My Secret Life""I saw you this morning,you were moving so fast.Can't seem to loosen my gripOn the past.And I miss you so much,there's no one in sight.And we're still making loveIn my secret life.I smile when I am angry,I cheat and I lie,I do what I have to doto get by,In my secret life.”

“The flowers that I left in the ground, that I did not gather for you, today I bring them all back, to let them grow forever, not in poems or marble, but where they fell and rotted. And the ships in their great stalls, huge and transitory as heroes, ships I could not captain, today I bring them back to let them sail forever, not in model or ballad, but where they were wrecked and scuttled. And the child on whose shoulders I stand, whose longing I purged with public, kingly discipline, today I bring him back to languish forever, not in confession or biography, but where he flourished, growing sly and hairy. It is not malice that draws me away, draws me to renunciation, betrayal: it is weariness, I go for weariness of thee, Gold, ivory, flesh, love, God, blood, moon- I have become the expert of the catalogue. My body once so familiar with glory, My body has become a museum: this part remembered because of someone's mouth, this because of a hand, this of wetness, this of heat. Who owns anything he has not made? With your beauty I am as uninvolved as with horses' manes and waterfalls. This is my last catalogue. I breathe the breathless I love you, I love you - and let you move forever.”