Hate Is Ravening Vulture Beaks Descending On

How Hard, How Desperately Hard, Is The Way Of The Experimenter In Art!

Hate Is Ravening Vulture Beaks Descending On A Place Of Skulls.

Fifteen Millions Of Soldiers With Popguns And Horses All Bent Upon Killing, Because Their "of Courses" Are Not Quite The Same.

Underneath My Stiffened Gown Is The Softness Of A Woman Bathing In A Marble Basin, A Basin In The Midst Of Hedges Grown So Thick, She Cannot See Her Lover Hiding, But She Guesses He Is Near, And The Sliding Of The Water Seems The Stroking Of A Dear Hand Upon Her.

I Shall Go Up And Down In My Gown. Gorgeously Arrayed, Boned And Stayed.