#Americans #Suicide #Women
Grub-white mulberries redden among… I’ll go out and sit in white like… Doing nothing. July’s juice round… This park is fleshed with idiot pe… White catalpa flowers tower, toppl…
They are the last romantics, these… Upside—down hearts of light tippin… And the fingers, taken in by their… Grown milky, almost clear, like th… It is touching, the way they’ll ig…
Old goatherds swear how all night… The warning whirr and burring of t… Who wakes with darkness and till d… Vampiring dry of milk each great g… Moon full, moon dark, the chary da…
'Perspective betrays with its dich… train tracks always meet, not here… in the impossible mind’s eye; horizons beat a retreat as we emba… on sophist seas to overtake that m…
How far is it? How far is it now? The gigantic gorilla interior Of the wheels move, they appall me… The terrible brains
Stasis in darkness. Then the substanceless blue Pour of tor and distances. God’s lioness, How one we grow,
We came over the moor—top Through air streaming and green—li… Stone farms foundering in it, Valleys of grass altering In a light neither dawn
Once I was ordinary: Sat by my father’s bean tree Eating the fingers of wisdom. The birds made milk. When it thundered I hid under a f…
You said you would kill it this mo… Do not kill it. It startles me st… The jut of that odd, dark head, pa… Through the uncut grass on the elm… It is something to own a pheasant,
“I shall never get you put togethe… Pieced, glued, and properly jointe… Mule—bray, pig—grunt and bawdy cac… Proceed from your great lips. It’s worse than a barnyard.
An old beast ended in this place: A monster of wood and rusty teeth. Fire smelted his eyes to lumps Of pale blue vitreous stuff, opaqu… As resin drops oozed from pine bar…
That lofty monarch, Monarch Mind, Blue-blooded in coarse country rei… Though he bedded in ermine, gorged… Pure Philosophy his love engrosse… While subjects hungered, empty-pur…
In sunless air, under pines Green to the point of blackness, s… Founding father set these lobed, w… To loom in the leaf—filtered gloom Black as the charred knuckle—bones
Black lake, black boat, two black,… Where do the black trees go that d… Their shadows must cover Canada. A little light is filtering from t… Their leaves do not wish us to hur…
They are always with us, the thin… Meager of dimension as the gray pe… On a movie—screen. They Are unreal, we say: It was only in a movie, it was onl…