The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go

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

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…

Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of

The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

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

the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie

It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for

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

A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was

My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together

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…

Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…

Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass