The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge

Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail

By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.

You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow

One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…

School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold

Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.

Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet