#AmericanWriters
Smokey the Bear heads into the autumn woods with a red can of gasoline and a box of wooden matches. His ranger’s hat is cocked
The whole idea of it makes me feel like I’m coming down with somethin… something worse than any stomach a… or the headaches I get from readin… a kind of measles of the spirit,
I wait for the holiday crowd to cl… before stepping onto the first wav… Soon I am walking across the Atla… thinking about Spain, checking for whales, waterspouts.
All you have to do is listen to th… sometimes talks to his wife at a t… and notice how intent he is on mak… even though her lower lip is begin… and you will know why the women in…
I remember the night I discovered… lying in bed in the dark, that a few imagined holes of golf worked much better than a thousand… that the local links,
The name of the author is the firs… followed obediently by the title,… the heartbreaking conclusion, the… which suddenly becomes one you hav… never even heard of,
Baudelaire considers you his brother, and Fielding calls out to you every few paragraphs as if to make sure you have not closed the book, and now I am summoning you up again, attentive...
What scene would I want to be env… more than this one, an ordinary night at the kitchen t… floral wallpaper pressing in, white cabinets full of glass,
They say you can jinx a poem if you talk about it before it is… If you let it out too early, they… your poem will fly away, and this time they are absolutely…
You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine... —Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine.
It could be the name of a prehisto… that roamed the Paleozoic earth, r… on its hind legs to show off its l… or some lover in a myth who is met… It means treasury, but it is just…
Today we woke up to a revolution o… its white flag waving over everyth… the landscape vanished, not a single mouse to punctuate th… and beyond these windows
This is not bad— ambling along 44th Street with Sonny Rollins for company, his music flowing through the soft… of these earphones,
It seems these poets have nothing up their ample sleeves they turn over so many cards so ea… telling us before the first line whether it is wet or dry,
I imagined the atmosphere would be… shot with pristine light, not this sulphurous haze, the air ionized as before a thunde… Many have pictured a river here,