All I know.
The distance between us is growing,
The silence is deafeningly quiet.
I’m trying to hold on, to what remains,
But you won’t let me.
My attempts are pushed away,
With the flick of your hand.
All I’ve come to know is changing.
All I’ve come to love is disappearing.
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| My love is a burden. | 0 | 04/02/2010 |
| All I know. | 0 | 04/02/2010 |
| Life. | 0 | 04/01/2010 |
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