Born green we were to this flawed garden, but in speckled thickets, warted a… spitefully skulks our warden, fixing his snare

The groundhog on the mountain did… But fatly scuttled into the splaye… And faced me, back to a ledge of d… Her sallow rodent teeth like casta… Against my leaning down, would not…

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…

(I) This is the sea, then, this great… How the sun’s poultice draws on my… Electrifyingly—colored sherbets, s… By pale girls, travel the air in s…

This is winter, this is night, sma… A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled with the sheen Of what green stars can make it to…

Now coldness comes sifting down, l… To our bower at the lily root. Overhead the old umbrellas of summ… Wither like pithless hands. There… Hourly the eye of the sky enlarges…

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,

All morning in the strawberry fiel… They talked about the Russians. Squatted down between the rows We listened. We heard the head woman say,