Page:Spring and all - William Carlos Williams.djvu/46

 Drunk we go forward surely Not I beds, beds, beds elevators, fruit, night-tables breasts to see, white and blue — to hold in the hand, to nozzle It is not onion soup Your sobs soaked through the walls breaking the hospital to pieces Everything — windows, chairs obscenely drunk, spinning — while ,blue, orange — hot with our passion wild tears, desperate rejoinders my legs, turning slowly end over end in the air I But what would you have? All I said was : there, you see, it is broken stockings, shoes, hairpins your bed, I wrapped myself round you