#AmericanWriters
There we go in cars, did you guess… Carrying the till, memorizing its… apt at the essential such as rearr… languages. They occur from route t… like savages who wear shells.
Unreasonable lenses refract the sensitive rabbit holes, mole dwell… climes where twist burrow and snee… a native species into houses
The simple contact with a wooden s… recovered itself, began to spread… as it lay sprawling to consider th… patience looked at grief, where wa… eyes curled outside themes to sear…
I won’t let anybody take a drink out of this barrel of tears I’ve collected from you. Least of all another woman.
Others about the embarking have reasons. I holding shreds carpenter leavings. Motions in the wind,
In the past we listened to photogr… Alive, active. What had been dist… Pushed us forward, emptying the… Erasure. In the city of X, they lived toge…
Someone has remembered to dry the… they have taken the accident out o… Afterward lilies for supper; there the lines in front of the window are rubbed on the table of stone
The world is going upstairs and some people of whom Frederick Kiesler didn’t approve
That is why I am here not among the ibises. Why the permanent city parasol covers even me. It was the rains
That there should never be air in a picture surprises me. It would seem to be only a picture of a certain kind, a portrait in p… or glue, somewhere a stickiness
At sunset from the top of the stai… the castle mallets wrenched from t… fell from ambush into flame flew i… above the stoneware a latch like m… the green; he stood waist high und…
sound opens sound shank of globe strings… something like images are here opening up avenues to view a dome a distant clang reaches the edific…
Each artist embarks on a personal… An artist may take introspective r… Or so they say in Barcelona when… In our country it is a water sprin… Colors often break themselves into…
i An opposing force nestles closer —to the four square of its joint the nimbus divides at an unfaded s… and the naughts are shuffled at th…
Early night and the evening bus Passing with a new wreath around Its straggled head. The push cart Halts and fifty pineapple eyes sta… Into the invalid light. We move