Will you feast with me, American… But what have I that shall seem g… On my board are bitter apples And honey served on thorns, And in my flagons fluid iron,

Was there a wind? Tap... tap... Night pads upon the snow with moccasined feet... and it is still... so still... an eagle's feather might fall like a stone. Could there have been a storm...

Aren’t there bigger things to talk… Than a window in Greenwich Villag… And hyacinths sprouting Like little puce poems out of a si… Some cosmic hearsay—

Out of the night you burn, Manhat… In a vesture of gold— Span of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying— Gold at the uttermost circles fadi…

Men die’€¦ Dreams only change their houses. They cannot be lined up against a… And quietly buried under ground, And no more heard of’€¦

When Art goes bounding, lean, Up hill-tops fired green To pluck a rose for life. Life like a broody hen Cluck-clucks him back again.

Out of fiery contacts ... Rushing auras of steel Touching and whirled apart ... Out of the charged phallases Of iron leaping

I love those spirits That men stand off and point at, Or shudder and hood up their souls… Those ruined ones, Where Liberty has lodged an hour

Mama’s face is smooth and pale as tea-rose lea… That ivory oval of aunt Gem you sucked the miniature off had black black hair like mama.

—Albert Parsons went to his death singing Annie Laurie; didn’t another have a rose in his coat–

The old men of the world have made… To warm their trembling hands. They poke the young men in. The young men burn like withes. If one run a little way,

Crass rays streaming from the vest… Cafes glittering like jeweled teet… High-flung signs Blinking yellow phosphorescent eye… Girls in black

Nasal intonations of light and clicking tongues... publicity of windows stoning me with pent-up cries... smells of abattoirs...

Last night I watched a star fall like a great… Till my ego expanding encompassed… Containing both as in a trembling…

Indigo bulb of darkness Punctured by needle lights Through a fissure of brick canyon… And a sliver of moon Spigoting two high windows over th…