#AmericanWriters
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
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…
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…
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
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…
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
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
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among