Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…

Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!

SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

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

O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am

Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:

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

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

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

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

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…