The word of a snail on the plate o… It is not mine. Do not accept it. Acetic acid in a sealed tin? Do not accept it. It is not genui… A ring of gold with the sun in it?

What was she doing when it blew in Over the seven hills, the red furr… Was she arranging cups? It is imp… Was she at the window, listening? In that valley the train shrieks e…

They’re out of the dark’s ragbag,… Moles dead in the pebbled rut, Shapeless as flung gloves, a few f… Blue suede a dog or fox has chewed… One, by himself, seemed pitiable e…

An old beast ended in this place: A monster of wood and rusty teeth. Fire smelted his eyes to lumps Of pale blue vitreous stuff, opaqu… As resin drops oozed from pine bar…

Compelled by calamity’s magnet They loiter and stare as if the ho… Burnt—out were theirs, or as if th… Some scandal might any minute ooze From a smoke—choked closet into li…

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This man makes a pseudonym And crawls behind it like a worm. This woman on the telephone Says she is a man, not a woman. The mask increases, eats the worm,

By the gate with star and moon Worked into the peeled orange wood The bronze snake lay in the sun Inert as a shoelace; dead But pliable still, his jaw

Day of mist: day of tarnish with hands unserviceable, I wait for the milk van the one—eared cat

Midnight in the mid-Atlantic. On… Wrapped up in themselves as in thi… And mute as mannequins in a dress… Some few passangers keep track Of the old star-map on the ceiling…