The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows

Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…

Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang

Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am

The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices

The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left

Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…

unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line

The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow

Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…

Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—

A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was