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…

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

Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves

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

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

A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.

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...

Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides

WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one

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…

Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses

It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,

My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…