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

This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...

Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion '€˜tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity

O’€”eh’€”lee! La’€”la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…

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

School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold

These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night

My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.

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

In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail

It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,