tucking up their sleeves for hours twenty miles of view cheerful trim among the trees   that and nothing else ‘in a gush’ suggestion of rain scarlet calico where no one loves him ‘I don’t die, I don’t fall in love’ roared like a millionaire one more wench new clean words   bridle Harriet’s tongue(…)

eighty-nine shirts his strong sons rows of green mountains burnt carrot powder many times folded ‘it is possible to make the world new’ those short legs cleaned of young turnips even the woodcutter such idiocies in his roomy elbow-chair pale as clay coffee, bread and butter it’s prune oven a day in a thousand convoy(…)

confidence of those roads sad attics a smile from her could be unwelcome would be dust back from Bingo Rembrandt alone never telling Noel played the tin whistle all grace notes half-forgotten now   blocking the way green knit cap almost malicious blotting pad and a pen less than no money almost defiant ‘I’ll go(…)

her own brother the best Catholic families bed-life a bosom without nipples which funeral to go to a classmate at Yale nothing in return someone from home eyes only for David L. Jenkins   more than friendship sister Amy married a classmate between her shoulders without her nightgown lace, satin second floor landing helpless persons(…)

evergreen trees a white ship

too busy to leave out of hubbub cheerful little cries quivering voice an egg for Irma any taste at all half attractive, half repellent turn by the church the Protestant parts hallow lagoons son of a dentist among olives hazy green of olives curiosity and kindness thick and damp no ignoramus courtesy itself flounced out(…)

the long voyage dangling greasy rags brackish freckles with satisfied spite male and female twins equally slapped about the beggar woman had pinched her bare feet spanking dueling scars   replaced by villas paved path two women live in the ruin also turning gray like a hiker avoiding it refused to take head of not(…)