The earth is motionless And poised in space .... A great bird resting in its flight Between the alleys of the stars. It is the wind’s hour off ....

Dour river Jaded with monotony of lights Diving off mast heads.... Lights mad with creating in a rive… Heave up, river...

Old plant of Asia - Mutilated vine Holding earth’s leaping sap In every stem and shoot That lopped off, sprouts again -

When you tell mama you are going to do something grea… she looks at you as though you were a window she were trying to see through,

In a little Hungarian cafe Men and women are drinking Yellow wine in tall goblets. Through the milky haze of the smok… The fiddler, under-sized, blond,

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—

Not yet hast Thou sounded Thy clangorous music, Whose strings are under the mounta… Not yet hast Thou spoken The blooded, implacable Word...

What of the silence of the keys And silvery hands? The iron sings… Though bows lie broken on the stri… The fly-wheels turn eternally’€¦ Bring fuel - drive the fires high’…

Warped... gland-dry... With spine askew And body shrunken into half its sp… Well-used as some cracked paving-s… Bearing on his grimed and pitted f…

Long vast shapes... cooled and flu… Lidless windows Glazed with a flashy luster From some little pert café chirpin… And down among iron guts

A late snow beats With cold white fists upon the ten… Hurriedly drawing blinds and shutt… Like tall old slatterns Pulling aprons about their heads.

I THOUGHT to die that night in… But there was time ... And I lay quietly on the drawn kn… I do not know how long ... I could not count the hours, they…

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...

That day, in the slipping of torso… on the bloodied ooze of fields plo… And the smoke bluish near earth an… floating like cotton-down, And the harsh and terrible screami…