Weier Tagesanbruch. Stille. Als… hielt ich es für Seewind, in unser… von Salz, von baumlosen Horizonte… bewegte sich nicht; das Laub meine… regungslos.

There’s in my mind a woman of innocence, unadorned but fair-featured and smelling of apples or grass. She wears a utopian smock or shift, her hair

After I had cut off my hands and grown new ones something my former hands had long… came and asked to be rocked. After my plucked out eyes

As the stores close, a winter ligh… opens air to iris blue, glint of frost through the smoke grains of mica, salt of the sidewa… As the buildings close, released a…

When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abund… whispers. My presence made them

Those groans men use passing a woman on the street or on the steps of the subway to tell her she is a female and their flesh knows it,

Long after you have swung back away from me I think you are still with me: you come in close to the shore on the tide

Brown gas-fog, white beneath the street lamps. Cut off on three sides, all space… with our bodies. Bodies that stumble

“I am a landscape,” he said. “a landscape and a person walking… There are daunting cliffs there, And plains glad in their way of brown monotony. But especially

Genial poets, pink-faced earnest wits’€” you have given the world some choice morsels, gobbets of language presented

The flowerlike animal perfume in the god’€™s curly hair '€” don’€™t assume

We live our lives of human passion… cruelties, dreams, concepts, crimes and the exercise of virtue in and beside a world devoid of our preoccupations, free

Rose Red’s hair is brown as fur and shines in firelight as she pre… supper of honey and apples, curds… for the bear, and leaves it ready on the hearth-stone.

White dawn. Stillness.When the ri…       &nbs p;   I took it for…       &nb sp;   of salt, of tr… didn’t stir; the leaves of my brot… unmoving.