Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles, Miles and miles On the solitary pastures where our sheep Half-asleep Tinkle homeward thro’ the…

Which eye’s his eye? Which limb lies next the mirror? For neither is clearer nor a different color than the other, nor…

Earliest morning, switching all the tracks that cross the sky from cinder star to star,       coupling the ends of streets       to trains…

The art of losing isn’t hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss…

Oh, but it is dirty! —‘this little filling station, oil-soaked, oil-permeated to a disturbing, over-all black translucency. Be careful with that match!…

As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street, The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat. And down…

I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-Second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest…

(From ‘Twelve Songs’) XII Some say that love’s a little boy, And some say it’s a bird, Some say it makes the…

In an upper room at midnight See us gathered on behalf Of love according to the gospel Of the radio-phonograph. Lou is…

When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-pilèd books, in…

Love set you going like a fat gold watch. The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry Took its place among…