A dead shepherd brought tremendous chords from hell And bad the sheep carouse. Or so they said. Children in love with them brought early flowers And scattered them about, no two alike.

Red-in-red repetitions never going Away,a little rusty, a little rouged, A little roughened and ruder, a crown The eye could not escape, a red renown Blowing i…

We reason of these things with later reason And we make of what we see, what we see clearly And have seen, a place dependent on ourselves.

It was enough for her that she remembered.

I can't believe this is happening I can't believe all these people are sniffing each other & backing away teeth grinning hair raised, growling, here in the sla…

Every child is an artist. It's a challenge to remain an artist when you grow up.

Franny has the measles, for one thing. Incidentally, did you hear her last week? She went on at beautiful length about how she used to fly all around the apart…