My mind is a puddle in the street reflecting green Sirius; In thick dark groves trees huddle lifting their...
Poetry
Over silent waters day descending ...
I will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burn-ing flowersI will take the sun in my mouthand leap...
April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots...
Enslaved are the old Gods; Pan pipes soundlessly For the unheeding bees. Bound by the trailing tresses of the...
The night has cuteach from eachand curled the petalsback from the stalkand under it in crisp rows; under at...
In an old dull yard near Camden Town, Which echoes with the rattle of cars and ‘busses And freight-trains,...
“Many words for few things!” “Death ends all; judgment comes to all.” DEATH SPEAKS At night, in winter, when...
Half a mile from the Heart,We stopped to stretchAnd kick the tires of our Egg Salad Sandwich.“But this is...
Grackles, trees— I been thinkin’ ’bout ’em all: I been thinkin’ they’re all right: Nothin’ much—Gosh, nothin’ much against...
It’s all very well for you suddenly to withdraw and say, I’ll come again, but what of the bruises...