I sit in the top of the wood, my e… Inaction, no falsifying dream Between my hooked head and hooked… Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills… The convenience of the high trees!

Who owns those scrawny little feet… Who owns this bristly scorched—loo… Who owns these still—working lungs… Who owns this utility coat of musc… Who owns these unspeakable guts?…

The clock—face stares, Its heart will betray it. A creak stands on the landing, loo… The chairs have surrendered and ar… The floor presses its face into th…

Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves, like the things of man, yo… With your fresh thoughts care for,… Ah! as the heart grows older

The flame—red moon, the harvest mo… Rolls along the hills, gently boun… A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upwar… To lie on the bottom of the sky, l…

Crow, feeling his brain slip, Finds his every feather the fossil… Who murdered all these? These living dead, that root in hi… Till he is visibly black?

Bloody Mary’s venomous flames can… They can shrivel sinew and char bo… Of foot, ankle, knee and thigh, an… Bowels, and drop his heart a cinde… And her soldiers can cry, as they…

Freezing dusk is closing Like a slow trap of steel On trees and roads and hills and a… That can no longer feel. But the carp is in its depth