At the window, those unborn, those undoneAssemble with the frail paleness of moths,An envious phosphorescence in their wings.Vermillions, bronzes, colors of the sunIn the coal fire will not wholly console them.Imagine their deep hunger, deep as the darkFor the blood-heat that would ruddlr or reclaim.The glass mouth sucks blooh-heat from my forefinger.The old god dribbles,…
Shackled to the dock, outmoded, gaudy,And apparently indestructible.The sea pulses under a skin of oil.A gull holds his pose on a shanty ridgepole,Riding the tide of the wind, steadyAs wood and formal, in a jacket of ashes,The whole flat harbor anchored inThe round of his yellow eye-button.A blimp swims up like a day-moon or tinCigar…
A melon strolling on two tendrils.O red fruit, ivory, fine timbers!This loaf’s big with its yeasty rising.Money’s new-minted in this fat purse.I’m a means, a stage, a cow in calf.I’ve eaten a bag of green apples,Boarded the train there’s no getting off.
