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

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

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

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

Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,

They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…

O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

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

Fools have big wombs. For the rest?—here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter there’l...

When I am alone I am happy. The air is cool. The sky is flecked and splashed and wound with color. The crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

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

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

According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field