#AmericanWriters
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
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
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses
Paterson lies in the valley under… its spent waters forming the outli… lies on his right side, head near… of the waters filling his dreams!… his dreams walk about the city whe…
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...
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity