| Violets have withered |
|
|
| Stars in the great sky fall in confusion |
|
|
| Die for a thing like that? |
|
|
| The Little man I always see on the streetcar |
|
|
| A Useless letter, long, yet to be finished |
|
|
| Arm for a pillow, fragrance of hair |
|
|
| Sucked into the hillside darkness |
|
|
| Even while pillowing her lap |
|
|
| Name known, but no relations or kin in this place |
|
|
| A Vague sadness |
|
|