The wanton airs, from the tree-top, Laughingly through the lattice drop -- The
bodiless airs, a wizard rout, Flit through thy chamber in and out, And wave the curtain canopy So fitfully -- so fearfully -- Above the closed and fringed lid
Would now the wind but had a body; but all the things that most exasperate and outrage mortal man, all these things are
bodiless, but only
bodiless as objects, not as agents.
The creature who carried the
bodiless head now set its burden upon the ground and the latter immediately crawled toward one of the bodies that was lying near by.
Airy figures, absolutely
bodiless ideas, and forms of unsubstantial beauty came and danced before her, imprinting their momentary footsteps on beams of light.
Fielding" named there has been taken to be Henry Fielding--really the only plausible candidate--and the poems therefore his earliest known work in print, frustratingly represented however by these
bodiless titles alone.
That's why his characters never move, and their expressions never change; why voices so often issue from outside the panel, or from within a distant White House (don't have to draw the speakers); why, in addition to the point it makes, George Bush is portrayed as a
bodiless dot .
With the song's repetitive, ascending-to-nowhere melody removed, and its chorus of "cold, cold heart" and "sacrifice" now rasped out in a
bodiless electronic voice, John appears to be summoning the dark lord rather than crooning relationship advice to the unhappy couple.
2 & 3), decorated by Giovanni da Udine, symmetry is the only rule guiding the proliferation of conjoined flora, fauna, cherubs and birds: smiling faces dangle
bodiless on bow-knotted strings; winged torsos taper to points, balancing on platforms of double bird heads; tiny leopards strut across tenuous wires while songbirds the same size as them fly just below.
Its implication consists of a
bodiless leper come to rest inside of himself as something other than explosive etching or failure.
Dear reader: What I started to tell you had something to do with hunger but the mink was demon turned
bodiless terror.
She has leaves whirling in the wind under a streetlight by a bus stop like dervishes, then settling back as if sighing "like a ripple of congregants/ into their pews." She describes "
bodiless clothes" at a mom and pop drycleaner's swishing forward on their conveyor, "all potential, all redemption." A bad day is "black as hell's/ receiving dock." Nostalgic for New York, she recalls tenements with "flaming suns leaping/ from window to window." In a sequence of poems about a demented and dying father, she intuits