#1950 #Xaipe
hist whist little ghostthings tip—toe twinkle—toe little twitchy
the poem her belly marched through… one army. From her nostrils to h… she smelled of silence. The insp… of her glad leg pulled into a sole… my separate lusts
notice the convulsed orange inch o… perching on this silver minute of… We’ll choose the way to the forest… to you,white town whose spires sof… Will take the houseless wisping ru…
(one!) the wisti-twisti barber -pole is climbing people high,up-in tenements talk.in sawdust Voices
Thou aged unreluctant earth who do… with quivering continual thighs in… the thrilling rain the slender par… to toy with thy extraordinary lust… (the sinuous rain which rising fro…
a wind has blown the rain away and… the sky away and all the leaves aw… and the trees stand. I think i to… autumn too long (and what have y…
there is a moon sole in the blue night amorous of waters
my naked lady framed in twilight is an accident whose niceness betters easily the… of genius— painting w…
in the rain- darkness, the sunset being sheathed i sit and think of you the holy
suppose Life is an old man carrying flower… young death sits in a café smiling,a piece of money held betw… his thumb and first finger
who’s most afraid of death?thou … utterly afraid,i love of thee (beloved)this and truly i would…
as freedom is a breakfastfood or truth can live with right and w… or molehills are from mountains ma… —long enough and just so long will being pay the rent of seem
writhe and gape of tortured perspective rasp and graze of splintered normality
the bigness of cannon is skilful, but i have seen death’s clever enormous voice which hides in a fragility
in Just- spring when the world is mud… luscious the little lame baloonman whistles far and wee