I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,

The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,

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

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow

unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line

A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.

Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.

From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor

It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.

Fools have big wombs. For the rest?—here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter there’l...

Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...

beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and

WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one

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…

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,…