#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
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.
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a w...
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.