-Before leaving my room i turn, and (stooping through the morning) kiss this pillow, dear where our heads lived and were.

And the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love

O sweet spontaneous earth how often has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty thou answereth them only with spring.

Like the burlesque comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.

in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems

God's terrible face brighter than a spoon collects the image of one fatal word;so that my life(which liked the sun and the moon)resembles something that has not occurred:i am a birdcage without any bird a collar looking for a dog a kisswithout lips;a prayer lacking any kneesbut something beats within my shirt to provehe is undead who living noone is.I have never loved you dear as now i love.

Be of love a little more careful than of anything.