An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…

Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of

A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing

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

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…

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

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

When I am alone I am happy. The air is cool. The sky is flecked and splashed and wound with color. The crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves

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 the field by force; the grass

And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn

the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie

I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.

Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion '€˜tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity

A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which