Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue

THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—

I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…

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

I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.

A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which

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

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

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

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...

Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass

Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous

One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…