The AdmissionIf you love me,say so. Snow piles; bridges burn behind me; I imagine that I am alone and have not turned toward you so before. I forget openings I had not thought of turning toward, to tell you, and to tell you to tell me.
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The surroundings affect us; it is a cause for love that you call it something logical, taking pleasure in our finding ourselves here. Tell me landscapes are frames of mind. I believe words have meaning. No gift will do. Tell me what it means to you.
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To DorothyYou are not beautiful, exactly.You are beautiful, inexactly. You let a weed grow by the mulberry and a mulberry grow by the house. So close, in the personal quiet of a windy night, it brushes the wall and sweeps away the day till we sleep. |
A child said it, and it seemed true: "Things that are lost are all equal." But it isn't true. If I lost you, the air wouldn't move, nor the tree grow. Someone would pull the weed, my flower. The quiet wouldn't be yours. If I lost you, I'd have to ask the grass to let me sleep.
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Being in Lovewith someone who is not in love withyou, you understand my predicament. Being in love with you, who are not in love with me, you understand my dilemma. Being in love with your being in love with me, which you are not, you understand
the difficulty. Being in love with your
with someone who is not in love, you know |
Whatever We Were Going to Tell Each Other
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Five Oh's
Five oh's are but a single line of our life together. |