Your white
The cradle
The sparse
This year or next yearArt criticism is as imbecile as Esperanto
Brindisi Goodbye goodbye
I was born in this city
And my son too
I’ve never liked Mascagni
Nor art nor artists
I’ve envied a woman
to be a woman
Bon voyage!
Let me carry you off
You who laugh at red
to the childbearing future
I envy your ease
Ocean liners of factories
At anchor
April 1914
_________________________
Cut-up of Blaise Cendrars
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