Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…

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

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

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

Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.

Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…

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

By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields

The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge

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

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

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

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