Full text: The little review (12 (1926), 1)

Mary Garden is Monna Vanna or Salome, darling Garden 
—Polly have a cracker—is divine, sugar two lemon, drunken 
Carmen—Nirvana—Cracker Polly—pull them out with fire 
Night swims in through the window myriads of thunder 
tossed blue balloons—click—whirr—Ha. 
M athematics of you 
Projected from a street piano 
laugh mouth sea hair 
Yet what Ho when 
corpses in crinolines 
corpses in furbelows 
Green laughter in moon dust chokes 
continuous minuet 
And Hells Bells when 
night jasimine swirls from purple flesh 
C’mon, G’mon in Mister, two dollahs 
Always placid yellow child in rose pinafore always 
in green night 
God may compute the institutional smells 
of hotels 
But who a cat in pursuit of 
a blue jay on a crimson shadowed emerald lawn 
pestilence of flower trees 
White magnolia, hibiscus, night jasimine, 
chameleons scuttle up through moss hairy live oaks 
Camelia, pomegranate, poincetta, mimosa, 
bourganelia, twisted coral vine 
How do you know 
New England 
Death might not be 
the tranquility of a southern Sunday afternoon 
lost in a park 
sizzling overhead in static flight from bulging shower 
black clouds

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