My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest

Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows

By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.

Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees

If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…

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

According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field

This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,

I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.