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

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

I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter

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...

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

Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway

The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge

These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night

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

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