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

While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on

The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…

This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...

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

It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .

Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…

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

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.

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

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…

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

The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers