#AmericanWriters #Ekphrasis
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow