Where the three magenta Breakwaters take the shove And suck of the grey sea To the left, and the wave Unfists against the dun

It is no night to drown in: A full moon, river lapsing Black beneath bland mirror—sheen, The blue water—mists dropping Scrim after scrim like fishnets

What a thrill —— My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for a sort of a hinge Of skin,

Now this particular girl During a ceremonious april walk With her latest suitor Found herself, of a sudden, intole… By the birds’ irregular babel

The horizons ring me like faggots, Tilted and disparate, and always u… Touched by a match, they might war… And their fine lines singe The air to orange

Grub-white mulberries redden among… I’ll go out and sit in white like… Doing nothing. July’s juice round… This park is fleshed with idiot pe… White catalpa flowers tower, toppl…

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo…

They are always with us, the thin… Meager of dimension as the gray pe… On a movie—screen. They Are unreal, we say: It was only in a movie, it was onl…