Alfred Kreymborg, ed. Others for 1919. 1920.
Mina Loy
The Dead
W
Beginning on the outside
That shrivvable skin
Where you leave off
Walking the ceiling
Our eyelashes polish stars
Of a descendant
We spit up our passions in our grand-dams
Our shadow lengthens
In your fear
You are so old
Born in our immortality
Stuck fast as Life
In one impalpable
Omniprevalent Dimension
Your cities lie digesting in our stomachs
Street lights footle in our ocular darkness
Satisfied before bread-breaking
To your dissolution
We splinter into Wholes
Stirring the remorses of your tomorrow
Among the refuse of your unborn centuries
In our busy ashbins
Stink the melodies
of your
So easily reducible
Adolescences
Birth-Breaths and orgasms
The shattering tremor of the static
The far-shore of an instant
The unsurpassable openness of the circle
Legerdemain of God
Do those who have strained to exceeding themselves
Break on our edgeless contours
has exuded to our companionship
Is horrible to the ear
Of the half that is left inside them.