Perpetual girls marching to love.
I say no world.
The Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
whose bodies kiss me with the square crime
Love is a deeper season
I love you.
For your wide child eyes,and fluttering hands,
For the little divinities your wrists,
And the beautiful mysteries your fingers.
Goodbye Betty, don’t remember me
pencil your eyes dear and have a good time.
I pray to what is unimaginable,
to your smile
which will not even allow my pencil
nearer than a thousand miles.
The poetic carcass of a girl.
Yes is a pleasant country.