(1923)
#AmericanWriters
The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings,
There’s a little square in Paris, Waiting until we pass. They sit idly there, They sip the glass. There’s a cab-horse at the corner,
Lulu sang of barbarians before the… Of gobs, who called her orchidean, Sniffed her and slapped heavy hand… Upon her. She made the eunuchs ululate.
The trade-wind jingles the rings i… by the docks on Indian River. It is the same jingle of the water… banks of the palmettoes. It is the same jingle of the red-b…
The cock crows But no queen rises. The hair of my blonde Is dazzling, As the spittle of cows
One’s grand flights, one’s Sunday… One’s tootings at the weddings of… Occur as they occur. So bluish cl… Occurred above the empty house and… Of the rhododendrons rattled their…
An old man sits In the shadow of a pine tree In China. He sees larkspur, Blue and white,
q|And for what, except for you, do… Do I press the extremest book of… Close to me, hidden in me day and… In the uncertain light of single,… Equal in living changingness to th…
On her side, reclining on her elbo… This mechanism, this apparition, Suppose we call it Projection A. She floats in air at the level of The eye, completely anonymous,
At night, by the fire, The colors of the bushes And of the fallen leaves, Repeating themselves, Turned in the room,
Light the first light of evening,… In which we rest and, for small re… The world imagined is the ultimate… This is, therefore, the intensest… It is in that thought that we coll…
Her terrace was the sand And the palms and the twilight. She made of the motions of her wri… The grandiose gestures Of her thought.
What syllable are you seeking, Vocalissimus, In the distances of sleep? Speak it.
A sunny day’s complete Poussinian… Divide it from itself. It is this… And it is not. By metaphor you paint A thing. Thus, the pineapple was…