This is our time. We women and men Here once and only once Celebrate our time In song.

Noiselessly the planets will blow… Like smoke, like breath, like driv… Frost-bitten suns on on, on on wil… Over earth’s curve, the moons, lik… Making no noise and only vague sha…

Only to tell your loveliness–this… Only to tell Pain’s odor, beauty-burning miracl… Of my surrender! Late I flew...

Gnats and an ant have gnawed your… You who could spring and sprawl on… Down half the meadow. Under tiny… The ant has stored your essence.… You stitched the air with level da…

We who have seen the city’s sentin… Some iron-colored tower, monument To slow encroaching force–our thew… Against her girders! With her noi… From this our iron tongue we toll,…

Sap stirs near me, roots stretch a… Sundering stones. And rivers waken, start in monoton… Their later tunes. Oaks bend their knotted knees

How tender-mad the little meadows… The wobbling lambs are tasting mil… The tipsy trees Are leaned like foam on green, win… The pale moth flutters where the p…

Over you, over you, over, I hang like a wave, like a lover, Like a scimitar edged with hate; Too heavy with grief to be straigh… And far,

There is a bird that hangs head-do… Between the mango leaves and passi… Below, a spotted serpent twines And blunts its head against the ye… Along the warping ground a turtle…

Out of the forest, panther, come, Silken, supple, silent, lone– Out of the forest, drooped with ni… To your delight. Under bloom and over stone,

Withhold your breath! Heavy in noon, and sleepy as slow… Garden of sweets and sours, The cluster of my body hangs Odorous with flowers:

Red is the mouth of Pele, passion… Against the fires of the kindling… Fire to fire moves: the heavens wa… As low to earth comes crimson-drip… They kiss in thunder, shudder, suf…

I have moved west, I travel with… You cannot hold, you cannot hinder… There are no ends for what I have… There are no resting places where… Until I am surrendered to the sea…

What husks of last year’s winter c… To-morrow’s world–what dead, what… Of ancient parchments, laws, belie… Worn, tattered layers keep the lif… Where slender as a sword, and tend…

Men go to women mutely for their p… And they, who lack it most, create… They make–because they must, lovin… A solace for sad bosom-bended head… Is all the meager peace men get–no…