#AmericanWriters
GRIEG being dead we may speak of… Grieg being dead we can talk about… Grieg being with Ibsen, Björnson… Grieg being dead does not care a h… Morning, Spring, Anitra’s Dance,
I have been in Pennsylvania, In the Monongahela and Hocking V… In the blue Susquehanna On a Saturday morning I saw a mounted constabulary go by…
BROTHER, I am fire Surging under the ocean floor. I shall never meet you, brother— Not for years, anyhow; Maybe thousands of years, brother.
There is a wolf in me . . . fangs… tongue for raw meat. . . and the h… this wolf because the wilderness g… will not let it go. There is a fox in me. . . a silver…
YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock w… Those grappling hooks, those wheel… The dome and the wings of you, ***… The red roof and the door of you, I know where your songs came from.
I AM singing to you Soft as a man with a dead child sp… Hard as a man in handcuffs, Held where he cannot move: Under the sun
THERE was a wild pigeon came oft… Gray wings that wrote their loops… There was a wild pigeon. There was a summer came year by ye… Rainy months and sunny and pigeons…
LET down your braids of hair, lad… Cross your legs and sit before the… And gaze long on lines under your… Life writes; men dance. And you know how men pay women.
THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs … near the shingle mill … winter morning. Falling of a dry leaf might be heard … circular steel tears through a log. Slope of woodland … ...
THE SHALE and water thrown tog… Then a potter’s hand on the wheel… Slimpsy, loose and ready to fall a… Dipped in glaze more fire plays on… Take it now; out of mud now here i…
I HAVE lived in many half-worlds… I leaned at a deck rail watching a… I leaned so... and you fluttered s… Child of water, child of air, fin…
THE DOWN drop of the blackbird, The wing catch of arrested flight, The stop midway and then off: off… This is April’s way: a woman: ‘O yes, I’m here again and your h…
Alike only as a yellow cat and a green parrot are alike, (Maybe this is a jabber too—are we at it again, you and I?) One thing there is much of; the name men call it by is time; int...
AMONG the shadows where two stre… A woman lurks in the dark and wait… To move on when a policeman heaves… Smiling a broken smile from a face Painted over haggard bones and des…
(Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms. I might have said, ‘Dogs bark and the wind carries it away.’ I might have said, ‘He who would make a door of gold mu...