It is still news to her that passion
could steer her wrong
though she went down, a thousand times
strung out
across railroad tracks, off bridges
under cars, or stiff
glass bottle still in hand, hair soft
on greasy pillows, still it is
news she cannot follow love (his
burning footsteps in blue crystal
snow)
The only war is the war against the imagination.
Diane di PrimaMore or Less Love Poems #11:
No babe
We'd never
Swing together but
the syncopation
would be something wild
In the fifties… we were so busy being cool that we didn’t know how to say the word love
Diane di PrimaStichwörter: love
I have just realized that the stakes are myself
I have no other
ransom money, nothing to break or barter but my life
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