Unbeing dead isn't being alive.

Since feeling is first, who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you, wholly to be a fool while spring is in the world, then laugh. lean back in my arms, for life's not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis.

To be nobody but
yourself in a world
which is doing its best day and night to make you like
everybody else means to fight the hardest battle
which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain, has such small hands

-excerpt of #35 from "100 Selected Poems

life's not a paragraph
And death i think is no parenthesis

all which isn't singing is merely talking
and all talking's talking to oneself
(whether that oneself be sought or seeking
master or disciple sheep or wolf)