THE KNEES of this proud woman are bone. The elbows of this proud woman

THERE’S a hole in the bottom of… Do you want affidavits? There’s a man in the moon with mon… Do you want affidavits? There are ten dancing girls in a s…

THE SHEETS of night mist trave… I know why you came at sundown in… What was it we touched asking noth… How many times can death come and… In the oath of the sod, the lips t…

THE WISHES on this child’s mou… Came like snow on marsh cranberrie… The tamarack kept something for he… The wind is ready to help her shoe… The north has loved her; she will…

GALOOTS, you hairy, hankering, Snousle on the bones you eat, chew… Grab off the bones in the paws of… If long-necks sit on their rumps a… Galoots fat with too much, galoots…

I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum… I hate and kill better men than I… In the ends of my fingers the itch… This is the hate my father gave me… Let us go on, brother hoodlums, le…

My knees are loose-like, my feet want to sling their selves. I feel like tickling you under the chin-honey-and a-asking: Why Does a Chicken Cross the Road? When the hens are a-laying eg...

NOTHING else in this song-only… Nothing else here-only your drinki… The pier runs into the lake straig… I stand on the pier and sing how… It is not your eyes, your face, I…

BETWEEN two hills The old town stands. The houses loom And the roofs and trees And the dusk and the dark,

THE SIX month child Fresh from the tub Wriggles in our hands. This is our fish child. Give her a nickname: Slippery.

I DON’T blame the kettle drums-t… And the snare drums-I know what t… And the harring booming bass drums… The howling spears of the Northwe… The lullabies of the Southwest ge…

MRS. GABRIELLE GIOVANNI… every morning at nine o’clock With kindling wood piled on top of… looking straight ahead to find the… Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pietro…

Not exactly the spinning circles of singing golden spiders, Not exactly this have they got at nor the meaning of flowers—O flowers, flowers slung by a dancing girl—in the saddest play t...

She sits in the dust at the walls And makes cigars, Bending at the bench With fingers wage-anxious, Changing her sweat for the day’s p…