#AmericanWriters
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
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…
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.
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
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...
WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one
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—
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire