Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway

The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls

This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with

THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—

The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!

THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—

Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet

Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…

A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which

Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a worthy...

To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...

Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of

The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers

You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!

contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…