poem endings

You have to let things
Occupy their own space.
This room is small,
But the green settee

Likes to be here.
The big marsh reeds,
Crowding out the slough,
Find the world good.

You have to let things
Be as they are.
Who knows which of us
Deserves the world more?

- Robert Bly

I like to understand your
Terror, now, the way you took her
Deflowering her as you’d gut a fish,
Leaving in the morning with talk of a wife.
Now that I
Know about the fear of love
I like to think of her white-hot body
Greenish as a fish just landed, quivering and
Slapping on a rock–fallen into your
Lap, man, shuddering like your cock,
A woman crazed with love, hot off the
press, sharp as a tool never used,
Blazing across your thighs and all you could
Do in your fear was firk out her cherry like an
Escargot from its dark shell and then
Toss her away. I am in awe of the terror that will
Waste so much, I am in love with the girl who went
Offering, came to you and
Laid it out like a feast on a platter, the
Delicate flesh–yes, yes,
I accept the gift.

- Sharon Olds

Oh then
I stood up in my gold skin
and I beat down the psalms
and I beat down the clothes
and you undid the bridle
and you undid the reins
and I undid the buttons,
the bones, the confusions,
the New England postcards,
the January ten o’clock night,
and we rose up like wheat,
acre after acre of gold,
and we harvested,
we harvested.

I dreamt that a storm of phantom numbers was
the only thing left of human beings three billion
years after Earth ceased to exist.

- Roberto Bolaño

Her Graceful pelvis arches into the orange evening,
implaccably. Who is she waiting for?

- Matthew Rohrer, Brooklyn Bridge 

A boy’s will is the wind’s will,
And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.

- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier.

- Walt Whitman

The minute I heard my first love story,
I started looking for you, not knowing
how blind that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere,
they’re in each other all along.

- Rumi (tr.Coleman Barks)

The wage they pay us is too low to live on. Tragedy reduced to numbers.
This for the poor shepherds.
I am a communist.
Farewell ye Greyhound where I suffered so much,
hurt my knee and scraped my hand and built
my pectoral muscles big as a vagina.

- Allen Ginsberg

There has not been a moment
When we have not inter-been.

Therefore you know
that as long as you continue to breathe,
I continue to be in you.

– Thich Nhat Hanh