Of Course I Think Of The Past

New York Rose Out Of The Water Like A Great Wave That Found It Impossible To Return Again And So Remained There In Horror, Peering Out Of The Million Windows Man Had Caged It With.

Man Is The Only Thing That Has No Further Use After Something Goes Amiss.

Sleep Demands Of Us A Guilty Immunity.

The Seal, She Lounges Like A Bride,much Too Docile, There's No Doubt;madame Récamier, On Side,(if Such She Has), And Bottom Out.

When Autumn Shadows Throw Their Patterns Across The Land, They Are Not The Images Of Fragile, Dying Leaves, Not The Bared Arms Of Lofty Elms, Not Shadows Of A Fading Summer; But Swinging Shapes As Of Books Upon A Strap, Of Round And Square Boxes Held Under An Arm, Of Hurrying Little People Heading Towards The Nearest School.