SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which

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—

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

A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…

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

By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields

Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…

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...

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

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 particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...