poems

when freedom from her mountain height
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
you say you love me
no prey am i of poor thoughts
tell me less or tell me more
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
did you ever hear of
sing again the song you sung
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
one by one, like leaves from a tree
just as my fingers on these keys
just now