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

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.

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

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

The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge

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

Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.

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

contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…

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

unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line

Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees

According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field