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...

School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold

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

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…

Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest

Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on

To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...

If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…

Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...

Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…

You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.

You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!

In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square