#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
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
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion pre… For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy… Hid deep in rushes, where at rando…
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices