#AmericanWriters
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
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.
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
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
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.
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…