Oh strong-ridged and deeply hollowed

that were inthe iceboxand whichyou were probablysavingfor breakfastForgive methey were deliciousso sweetand so cold

and roundin holiday geara riotously gay rabble ofpeasants and theirample-bottomed doxiesfillsthe market squarefeatured by the women intheir starchedwhite headgearthey prance or go openlytoward the wood’sedgesround and around inrough shoes andfarm breechesmouths agapeOya !kicking up their heels

Gold against blueAn Arrow is lying.There is hunting in heaven–Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Bears are abroad!The Eagle is screaming!Gold against blueTheir eyes are gleaming!Sleep!Sleep safe till tomorrow.The Sisters lieWith their arms intertwining;Gold against blueTheir hair is shining!The Serpent writhes!Orion is listening!Gold against blueHis sword is glistening!Sleep!There is hunting in heaven–Sleep safe till tomorrow.

Of all I love you bestO my Japanese bird nestNo herring from NorwayCan touch you for flavor. NayPimento itselfis flat as an empty shelfWhen compared to your piquancyO quince of my despondency.

the terrible facesof our nonentitesstirs me to it:colored womenday workers—old and experienced—returning home at duskin cast off clothingfaces likeold Florentine oak.Alsothe set piecesof your faces stir me—leading citizens—but notin the same way.

the blackbirds in the rainupon the dead topbranchesof the living tree,stuck fast to the low clouds,notate the dawn.Their shrill cries soundannouncing appetiteand drop among the bending rosesand the dripping grass.