A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.

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

Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang

Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

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

The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow

It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...

They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.

Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides

In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…

Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…

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