SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

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

The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices

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

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

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

beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and

First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.

Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…

Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which

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…