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I have wished a bird would fly away,
And not sing by my house all day;

Have clapped my hands at him from the door
When it seemed as if I could bear no more.

The fault must partly have been in me.
The bird was not to blame...

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint...

Day by day
Smiles grow wearisome
And the spark within
Fades and fades
Slowly I start to see the cold
And feel the dark!

I have robbed the garrulous streets,
Thieved a fair girl from their blight,
I have stolen her for a sacrifice
That I shall make to this night.

I have brought her, laughing,
To my quietly dreaming garden.
For what will be...

I guess you think you know this story.
You don't. The real one's much more gory.
The phoney one, the one you know,
Was cooked up years and years ago,
And made to sound all soft and sappy
just to keep the children...

He walks the path, feet light, yet sure,
Balancing life on rails obscure.
The sun hums soft in golden tones,
A fleeting warmth he calls his own.

Illusions dance, they pull, they sway,
Yet he won’t let them lead...

I love red,
not in the way most do,
with roses or sunsets,
but in the way it bleeds—
bleeds from my soul.
I wear it on my skin
like a silent scream,
a language only I understand,
when the world becomes too...

Every sunrise the sunflowers open their arms
Calling, beckoning at the golden sun
Hoping the sun waves or winks back
But the sun just slides along
Too proud to care at the fragile flowers.
At sunset the moon consoles the...

Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love can not fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean...

He was a mountain,
A lion; but to us
A tuft of wool

He’d thrust me up
Like a flightless bird
Back to him I fell
Taught me kindness and pride
In the works of one’s hand

He knew when to lift me up
When to...

On my travels up above,
I picked up a star,
Wrestled it from its place,
And dragged it down below.
It's one thing to watch stars above,
It's another to hold them in hand.
For they burn like Sulphur;
And are big like...

I’ll tell you how the sun rose, —
A ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amethyst,
The news like squirrels ran.

The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun.
Then I said softly to myself,
“That must have...