The good times are killing me.

We go out together into the staring town
And buy cheese and bread and little jugs with
flowered labels

Everywhere is a tent where we put on our whirling
show

A great deal has been said of the handless serpents
Which war has set loose in the gay milk of our
heads

But because you braid your hair and taste like
honey of heaven
We go together into town to buy wine and
yellow candles.

—

Kenneth Patchen (via harleykay)

From heidieden:

I had the opportunity to read a poem at my friends’ wedding a few years ago. This was the one we agreed upon. Thanks to my mom, I have a lifelong appreciation for this most impressive of men.