The face of the gypsy watching the bird gun firing into the colony of seals; but it was filled with blanks;
The face of the old knoll watching his hills grow up before him;
The face of the New England fruit juice proprietor watching his whole supplies being overturned by a herd of wild bulls;

La mia mamma
Nel tempo in cui ero bambino
Fu una donna

The Schubert is flying
O no crazy Alaska

Your poetry is all “culture poetry”
Said Frogs. You don’t know the
Meaning of crap.

Birds don't sing, they explain. Only human beings sing.

If half the poets in the world stopped writing, there would still be the same amount of poetry.

If ninety-nine percent of the poets in the world stopped writing poetry, there would still be the same amount of poetry.

Put one hand
Next to a light-switch
With the other hand
Feeling for the wall.

The thing
to do
Is organize

Scene 1. Ted and Sally on a porch overlooking the water in Nice or some other resort. The scene is all yellow and green.

You are my Sweetheart; 
Sang the tin can 
I was sitting on a truck 

Another ribald tale of the good times at Madame Lipsky’s. 
Giorgio Finogle bad come in with an imitation of the latest Russian poet, 
The one who wrote the great “Complaint About the Peanut  Farm” which I read to you last year at Mrs. Riley’s,