Go away girl, go away and let me pack my dreams Now where did I put those yesteryears made up with broken seams Where shall I sweep the pieces my God they still look new There’s a taxi waiting at the door but there’s only room for you This poem was written/submitted by Spike Milligan.

Come, thrust your hands in the warm earth And feel her strength through all your veins; Breathe her full odors, taste her mouth, Which laughs away imagined pains; Touch her life’s womb, yet know This substance makes your grave also. Shrink not; your flesh is no more sweet Than flowers which daily blow and die; [...]

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm, your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm, yes, many loved before us, I know that we are not new, in city and in forest they smiled like me and you, but now it’s come to distances and both of us must [...]

Dark cypresses– The world is uneasily happy; It will all be forgotten. –Theodore Storm Mother of roots, you have not seeded The tall ashes of loneliness For me. Therefore, Now I go. If I knew the name, Your name, all trellises of vineyards and old fire Would quicken to shake terribly my Earth, mother of [...]

She stood at the window. There was a sound, a light. She stood at the window. A face. Was it that she was looking for, he thought. Was it that she was looking for. He said, turn from it, turn from it. The pain is not unpainful. Turn from it. The act of her anger, [...]

Goodbye, sir, & fare well. You’re in the clear. ‘Nobody’ (Mark says you said) ‘is ever found out.’ I figure you were right, having as Henry got away with murder for long. Some jarred clock tell me it’s late, not for you who went straight but for the lorn. Our roof is lefted off lately: [...]

Goodbye, lady in Bangor, who sent me snapshots of yourself, after definitely hinting you were beautiful; goodbye, Miami Beach urologist, who enclosed plain brown envelopes for the return of your very Clinical Sonnet; goodbye, manufacturer of brassieres on the Coast, whose eclogues give the fullest treatment in literature yet to the sagging-breast motif; goodbye, you [...]

I have a pack of letters, I have a pack of memories. I could cut out the eyes of both. I could wear them like a patchwork apron. I could stick them in the washer, the drier, and maybe some of the pain would float off like dirt? Perhaps down the disposal I could grind [...]

One day He tipped His top hat and walked out of the room, ending the argument. He stomped off saying: I don’t give guarantees. I was left quite alone using up the darkness I rolled up my sweater, up in a ball, and took it to bed with me, a kind of stand-in for God, [...]

Imagining you’d come to say goodbye, I made a doll of raffia and string. I gave her thatch hair, and a broomstick skirt of patchwork satin rags. Around each eye I stitched thick lashes. Such a touching thing she was! That even you could not debate – impassive, undemanding and inert. Yes, surely she’d cause [...]