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.

THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—

Paterson lies in the valley under… its spent waters forming the outli… lies on his right side, head near… of the waters filling his dreams!… his dreams walk about the city whe…

The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,

I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.

Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow

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

I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine

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.

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