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How many spiders
hanging by a thread
seem to fly!
They non-stop broadcast:
I yearn for monoscopes
and snow-effect.
To practise scales staccato tremolo and touch…
Why a man my age learn to play the violin?
Just because it will be no use!
Fireworks
and stink of insectifuge:
all things have connexion.
Never a balance,
but everlasting librating never pausing;
masks hung again are swinging.
Crackling of leaves in the wind;
I close my eyes, it’s fire, it’s rain,
it’s paper crumpled up, it’ applause… What is it?
Silence of the tree:
in its deepness where are
branches and roots?
Fallen leaves,
ancient couch of the Earth
or as if it was.
On awaking
how the world is unreal
after having dreamt!
What’s the use of grass burst out of a sidewalk?
Plot of clouds
we gaze at and forget.
I throw the newspaper at the ceiling:
the blue-bottle is stone dead
as in the court-yard miaows the venereal heat.
Big toasted peanuts:
could I too preferably be best before end
within the date up indicated!