master of the hunt so many buttons reading, reflecting, the usual rigmarole onto Red Square turned his back to the lilacs the rudeness awaited of a belfry window the size of a chessboard doleful eight a great conniving on the docks of Peterhof ‘must learn to say goodbye’ father’s twice tolling clock
long lines of bugs marched all day largely foreigners at twenty-five centimes a sock six liters on Saturday’s he declaims that shiver the stones a piece of bad luck the thing you knew your food is bread and margarine food insulting you only food no clothes hardly ever without writing is bosh(…)
why not a school rain is just the thing be frank, white in need could slap time with people who despise you rare snout-mouth fish
lay like scales on my eyes a traveler would be hurrying being made comfortable uncle pulling my curls a rope let down from heaven gusts of memory rooms in winter or lodging ‘that is not the way’ take a mental share unable to guide it back studied the envelope for five minutes loosely-knotted every useless(…)
the more stray memories on nothing much who stole my yellow bicycle four years dead like many idlers this street quarter of anywhere cuffs turn backwards Whistler etchings boiling up in vast ignorant, impudent the most remarkable, inexplicable another father any son dead when he was eight days old unrelenting hatred had ten(…)
wet stone, black earth piece by piece ant’s nose exhaled fog fully at home two Texans living in the frigid north faint rain months on end from brown to gray the same stream
tuna mayonnaise glance at the hot food cabinet 390 ¥ please common for him just like stray cats now and then fumbling never the perpetrator ‘we men’ ‘men who don’t hunt’ ‘I’m poor too’ ‘wait, what, since when’ at 110 ¥ help find my name badge with food and sleep now it was time(…)
an immediate liking feel for a stranger war-stricken towns or blue overalls bread queue’s horse piss and quavering bugle calls pull the pin out more or less coated excrement everywhere without a handkerchief
his watch, unwound largely spent buckling about two windblown girls not related to night and day not hot water at once forgot him gray pills sound of sobbing as Mrs. Scarfield brandy and Créme de Menthe mixed silent with shame our of his deep chair Dutch perhaps they it was duty to spread alarm(…)
