In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…

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

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

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

I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which

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

While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on

I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.

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

The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge

"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—

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

This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream