the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

The brutal Lord of All will rip us from each other—leave the one to suffer here alone. No need belief in god or hell to postulate that much. The dance: hands touching, leaves touch...

Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…

The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,

If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left

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

My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…

Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…

All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among