Once upon a time there was a perso… He was walking along He met the full burning moon Rolling slowly twoards him Crushing the stones and houses by…

Who owns those scrawny little feet… Who owns this bristly scorched—loo… Who owns these still—working lungs… Who owns this utility coat of musc… Who owns these unspeakable guts?…

This house has been far out at sea… The woods crashing through darknes… Winds stampeding the fields under… Floundering black astride and blin… Till day rose; then under an orang…

Great farmy whores, breasts bouncy… Like buttocks, and with buttocks l… Two white sows jammed in a sty doo… Are no dunghills for bawdry’s cock… Nor tigery tarts, with rubber back…

The mahogany table-top you smashed Had been the broad plank top Of my mother’s heirloom sideboard— Mapped with the scars of my whole… That came under the hammer.

The moon not o be named Going over, clear of all poetry, The exhauster of the poetical Faculties of our race, surrenderin… Of her fourth day rights, ignores…

Bloody Mary’s venomous flames can… They can shrivel sinew and char bo… Of foot, ankle, knee and thigh, an… Bowels, and drop his heart a cinde… And her soldiers can cry, as they…

The flame—red moon, the harvest mo… Rolls along the hills, gently boun… A vast balloon, Till it takes off, and sinks upwar… To lie on the bottom of the sky, l…

Crow, feeling his brain slip, Finds his every feather the fossil… Who murdered all these? These living dead, that root in hi… Till he is visibly black?