STUFF of the moon Runs on the lapping sand Out to the longest shadows. Under the curving willows, And round the creep of the wave li…

or a man out of the ashes of false dawn muttering 'hot-dog’ to the night watchmen: Is there a spieler who has spoken the word or taken the number of night’s nothings? am I the spieler? ...

In the loam we sleep, In the cool moist loam, To the lull of years that pass And the break of stars, From the loam, then,

THE FINE cloth of your love mig… Something Sinbad, the sailor, too… Something a traveler with plenty o… And bring home and stick on the wa… ‘There’s a little thing made a hit…

TWENTY men stand watching the m… Stabbing the sides of the ditch Where clay gleams yellow, Driving the blades of their shovel… Deeper and deeper for the new gas…

LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hour…

LEGS hold a torso away from the… And a regular high poem of legs is… Powers of bone and cord raise a be… Out of ooze and over the loam wher… And arms have a chance to hammer a…

JOHN BROWN’S body under the m… Six feet of dust under the morning… And a panorama of war performs its… Over the six-foot stage of circlin… Room for Gettysburg, Wilderness,…

Many ways to say good night. Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth… spell it with red wheels and yello… They fizz in the air, touch the wa… Rockets make a trajectory of gold-…

YELLOW dust on a bumble bee’s wing, Grey lights in a woman’s asking eyes, Red ruins in the changing

THE SHEETS of night mist trave… I know why you came at sundown in… What was it we touched asking noth… How many times can death come and… In the oath of the sod, the lips t…

I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged the air like a set of crystals in a chemist’s tube to a whispering pinch of salt. Cross ...

A million young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads, And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red rose...

WHAT cry of peach blossoms let loose on the air today I heard with my face thrown in the pink-white of it all? in the red whisper of it all?

THEY offer you many things, I a few. Moonlight on the play of fountains… With water sparkling a drowsy mono… Bare-shouldered, smiling women and…