#Activities #AmericanWriters #MoneyAndEconomics #SocialCommentaries
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband’s… I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
Among of green stiff old
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...