Modernist Women Poets: An Anthology
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low. Lean over not a coat low by stand. Lean over net. Lean over net a coat low hour stemmed Lean over a coat low a great send. Lean over coat low extra extend. XLV Copying Copying it in. XLVI Never second scent never second scent in stand. Never second scent in stand box or show. Or show me sales. Or show me sales oak. Oak pet. Oak pet stall. XLVII Not a mixed stick or not a mixed stick or glass. Not a mend stone bender, not a mend stone bender or stain. XLVIII Polish polish is it a
changed her mind. Do I look fat. Do I look fat and thin. Blue eyes and windows. You mean Vera. Lifting belly can guess. Quickly. Lifting belly is so pleased. Lifting belly seeks pleasure. And she finds it altogether. Lifting belly is my love. Can you say meritorious. Yes camellia. Why do you complain. Postal cards. And then. The Louvre. After that. After that Francine. You don’t mean by that name. What is Spain. Listen lightly. But you do. Don’t tell me what you call me.
exactly in resemblance exactly a resemblance, exactly and resemblance. For this is so. Because. Now actively repeat at all, now actively repeat at all, now actively repeat at all. Have hold and hear, actively repeat at all. I judge judge. As a resemblance to him. Who comes first. Napoleon the first. Who comes too coming coming too, who goes there, as they go they share, who shares all, all is as all as as yet or as yet. Now to date now to date. Now and now and date and the date. Who came
evening Even if a fire is burning and Summer is of use to them […] STANZA XI I thought how could I very well think that But which they were a choice that now they know For which they could be always there and asking But made not more than which than they can like Not only why they came but which they knew For their own sake by the time that it is there They should be always rather liking it To have not any one exclaim at last It must be always just what they have done By which they
stuffed blue shape, Backed by a nickel star Does prod him on, Taking his proud patience for humility . . . All gutters are as one To that old race that has been thrust From off the curbstones of the world . . . And he smiles with the pale irony Of one who holds The wisdom of the Talmud stored away In his mind’s lavender. But this young trader, Born to trade as to a caul, Peddles the notions of the hour. The gestures of the craft are his And all the lore As when to hold, withdraw,