O lady, when the tipped cup of the
You became soft fire with a cloud’
The difficult stars swam for eyes
You stood, and your shadow was my
You turned, your shadow turned to

A green level of lily leaves
Roofs the pond’s chamber and paves
The flies’ furious arena: study
These, the two minds of this lady.
First observe the air’s dragonfly

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.

Millionly-whored, without womb,
Her heart already rubbish,
Watching the garret death come,
This thirty year old miss
Walked in park pastoral

In the beginning was Scream
Who begat Blood
Who begat Eye
Who begat Fear
Who begat Wing

I imagine this midnight moment’s f
Something else is alive
Beside the clock’s loneliness
And this blank page where my finge
Through the window I see no star:

The apes yawn and adore their flea
The parrots shriek as if they were
Like cheap tarts to attract the st
Fatigued with indolence, tiger and
Lie still as the sun. The boa-con

The swallow of summer, she toils a
A blue—dark knot of glittering vol
A whiplash swimmer, a fish of the
But the serpent of cars that crawl
In shimmering exhaust

A cool small evening shrunk to a d
And you listening.
A spider’s web, tense for the dew’
A pail lifted, still and brimming–
To tempt a first star to a tremor.

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