Furnished Souls The Cambridge Ladies example essay topic

the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls are un beautiful and have comfortable minds (also, with the church's protestant blessings daughters, unscented shapeless spirited) they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead, are invariably interested in so many things- at the present writing one still finds delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D... the Cambridge ladies do not care, above Cambridge if sometimes in its box of sky lavender and corner less, the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy from Tulips and Chimneys (1923) "kitty". sixteen, 5 11", white, prostitute. "kitty". sixteen, 5 11", white, prostitute. ducking always the touch of must and shall, whose slippery body is Death's littlest pal, skilled in quick softness. Un spontaneous. cute. the signal perfume of whose un repute focusses in the sweet slow animal bottomless eyes importantly banal, Kitty. a whore. Sixteen you corking brute amused from time to time by clever dolls fearsomely who do keep their sunday flower.

The baby breasted broad "kitty" twice eight -beer nothing, the lady " ll have a whiskey-sour- whose least amazing smile is the most great common divisor of unequal souls. from Tulips and Chimneys (1923) here is little Effie's head here is little Effie's head whose brains are made of gingerbread when the judgment day comes God will find six crumbs stooping by the coffin lid waiting for something to rise as the other somethings did- you imagine His surprise bellowing through the genera noise Where is Effie who was dead -to God in a tiny voice, i am may the first crumb said whereupon its fellow five crumbs chuckled as if they were alive and number two took up the song, might i'm called and did no wrong cried the third crumb, i am should and this is my little sister could with our big brother who is would don't punish us for we were good; and the last crumb with some shame whispered unto God, my name is must and with the others i've been Effie who isn't alive just imagine it I say God amid a monstrous din watch your step and follow me stooping by Effie's little, in (want a match or can you see) which the six subjunctive crumbs twitch like mutilated thumbs: picture His peering biggest whey coloured face on which a frown puzzles, but I know the way- (nervously Whose eyes approve the blessed while His ears are crammed with the strenuous music of the innumerable capering damned) -staring wildly up and down the here we are now judgment day cross the threshold have no dread lift the sheet back in this way. here is little Effie's head whose brains are made of gingerbread from & (1925) raise the shade raise the shade will youse dearie rain wouldn't that get yer goat but we don't care do we dearie we should worry about the rain huh dearie yk now i'm sorry for awl the poor girls that gets up god knows when every day of their lives aint you, oo-oo. dearie not so hard dear you " re killing me from & (1925) i like my body when it is with your i like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spine of your body and its bones, and the trembling -firm-smooth ness and which i will again and again and again kiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz of your electric furr, and what-is-it comes over parting flesh... And eyes big love-crumbs, and possibly i like the thrill of under me you so quite new from & (1925) who knows if the moon's who knows if the moon's a baloon, coming out of a keen city in the sky-filled with pretty people (and if you and i should get into it, if they should take me and take you into their baloon, why then we'd go up higher with all the pretty people than houses and steeples and clouds: go sailing away and away sailing into a keen city which nobody's ever visited, where always it's Spring) and everyone's in love and flowers pick themselves from & (1925) Picasso Picasso you give us things which bulge: grunting lungs pumped full of sharp thick mind you make us shrill presents always shut in the sumptuous screech of simplicity (out of the black un bunged Something gushes vaguely a squeak of planes or between squeals of Nothing grabbed with circular shrieking tightness solid screams whispers.) Lumberman of the Distinct your brain's axe only chops hugest inherent Trees of Ego, from whose living and biggest bodies lopped of every prettiness you hew form truly from XLI Poems (1925).