“Good morning, Sir” yells the black boy
from the jo-cart
(Jeffers, Lovell and Harley
also Mr Walls who has lent me a razor
Persha, Nadasky and Harbell)
Swinburne my only miss
and I didn’t know he’d been to see Landor
and they told me this that an’ tother
But given what I know now I’d have
got thru it somehow . . .
shade
or a blackjack.
When the french fishermen hauled him out he
recited ’em
might have been Aeschylus
in the original
“like a dog . . . and a good job
MY HUSBAND . . . HAND
by this right hand
dead by this hand
and “our brother Shelley”
manuscript with the
greek moulds in the margin
the “marble men” shall pass into nothingness,
Three birds on the wire
and as to who wd/ pay for the composition
if same were not used
After all”
“it is only the same old story
Her Ladyship arose in the night
and moved all the furniture
(that is her Ladyship YX)
her Ladyship Z disliked dining alone and
The proud shall not lie by the proud
amid dim green lighted with candles
red head for a glory
Mr Masefield murmuring: Death
and Old Neptune meaning something unseizable
in a discussion of Flaubert
the medium
baffling the society for metaphysical research
and the idea that CONversation . . . . .
should not utterly wither
even I can remember
at 18 Woburn Buildings
to Yeats,
“If you would read us one of your own choice
and
perfect
lyrics”
and more’s the pity that Dickens died twice
with the disappearance
and for all that old Ford’s conversation was better,
consisting in objects not words,
despite William’s anecdotes, in that Fordie
never dented an idea for a phrase’s sake
and had more humanity humaneness
(Aphrodite Aphrodite)
in one bark convey’d
Be glad poor beaste, love follows after thee
Till the cricket hops
but does not chirrp in the drill field
8th day of September
f f
d
g
write the birds in their treble scale
there are no righteous wars in “The Spring and Au-
tumn”
that is, perfectly right on one side or the other
total right on either side of the battle line
and the news is a long time moving
a long time in arriving
thru the impenetrable
crystalline, indestructible
ignorance of locality
The news was quicker in Troy’s time
a match
a glow worm on Lesbos,
Till forty years since,
“Fvy! in Tdaenmarck efen dh’ beasantz gnow him,”
meaning Whitman, exotic, still suspect
four miles from Camden
“O troubled reflection
“O Throat, O throbbing heart”
How drawn, O EARTH EARTH,
what draws as thou drawest
till one sink into thee by an arm’s width
embracing thee. Drawest,
truly thou drawest.
Wisdom lies next thee,
simply, past metaphor.
Where I lie let the thyme rise
and basil
let the herbs rise in April abundant
wind: man to my house
lie into earth to the breast bone, to the left shoulder
Kipling suspected it
to the height of ten inches or over
man, earth : two halves of the tally
but I will come out of this knowing no one
neither they me
marriage of earth she said my husband
EARTH-BORN, mystery
fluid OF EARTH o’erflowed me
lay in the fluid OF EARTH;
that lie
under the air’s solidity
drunk with ICHOR of EARTH
fluid OF EARTH, strong as the undertow
of the wave receding
but that a man should live in that further terror, and live
the loneliness of death came upon me
(at 3 P. M., for an instant) of tears
thereupon
three solemn half notes
their white downy chests black-rimmed
on the middle wire
periplum
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