Cohen Leonard. The Energy of Slaves

Welcome to these lines.
I threw open the shutters light fell on this poem.
I threw open the shutters: light fell on these lines.
This is the only poem.
All men delight you.
I'd like to read.
Portrait of a girl.
My skin is made of stars.
There are no traitors among women.
Poetry begun in this mood rarely succeeds.
I am invisible to night.
It takes a long time to see you Terez.
I did not know until you walked away.
Overheard on every corner.
Did you ever moan beneath me.
I am no longer at my best practicing.
I perceived the outline of your breasts.
I don't want you to know who I am.
I know there's no such thing as hell or heaven.
I try to keep in touch wherever I am.
Your eyes are very strong.
It is not to tell you anything.
O love did the world come to you.
There is no end to my hatred.
I am dying.
cutting the hair.
I left a woman waiting.
I wore a medal of the Virgin.
You are a much finer person than I am.
-I don't know what to call it, he said.
The silly girl, the silly girl.
I make this song for thee.
Listening to her song.
Each day he lugged.
Scorpion.
Stay.
If I could tell you.
What character could possibly engage my boredom.
She sat down at the piano.
Morocco.
I was lost.
There is no one.
The progress of my style.
I dream of torturing you.
Leaning over his poem.
Crying, Come back, Hero.
You provide the furniture.
Over there a little altar.
One of these days.
Beauty speaks in the third act.
Picture of the artist and his room.
Why is it I have nothing to say to you.
This is a threat.
Terez and Deanne elude me.
You need her.
How we used to approach The Book of Changes: 1966.
To the men and women.
I sit with the old men.
There was a veil between them.
I will grow old.
I dress in black.
I walk through the old yellow sunlight.
Dance on the money.
I have been cruel to you.
Perhaps it is because my music.
The sea-lions live a wonderful life.
The Ark you're building.
What has taken place in your body and your head.
I let your mind enter me.
Welcome home.
I could not wait for you.
They locked up a man.
You are almost always with someone else.
Dipped myself in a future night.
Come down to my room.
Valentina gave me four months.
I have a sneer for you.
It gets dark at four o'clock now.
It was a while ago.
You tore your shirt.
You want me at all times.
Why did you spend.
It is a trust to me.
he whistled to himself.
His suicide was simply not a puzzle.
I am punished when I do not work on this poem.
Perhaps she would come again.
the 15-year-old girls.
On hearing that Irving Layton was kissed by Allen Ginsberg
at a Toronto poetry reading.
The poet is drunk.
We call it sunlight.
War is no longer needed.
The killers that run the other countries.
Dear Mailer.
On leaving France.
Love is a fire.
Whenever I happen to see you.
The form of poetry.
Song for my assassin.
I don't know what happens.
I can't believe what they say is true.
O darling (as we used to say).
I have no talent left.
This is my voice.
This is the poem we have been waiting for.
How we loved you.
The poems don't love us anymore.
Layton was wrong.
I think it is safe to tell you where I am.
For a long time.
Any system you contrive without us.
Each man.
One of the lizards.
You went to work at the U.N..
Every time my wife has a baby.
I see the ocean from my window.
There is nothing here.