#AmericanWriters
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang
THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
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…
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
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
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain