LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hour…

THE DOME of the capitol looks t… Out of haze over the sunset, Out of a smoke rose gold: One star shines over the sunset. Night takes the dome and the river…

(Washington, August, 1918)I HAV… I have seen this city in the night… And in the night and the moon I h… The float of the dome in the day a… The float of the dome in the night…

I DON’T know how he came, shambling, dark, and strong. He stood in the city and told men: My people are fools, my people are… Always he kept on asking: Where d…

What is the name you called me?— And why did you go so soon? The crows lift their caws on the w… And the wind changed and was lonel… The warblers cry thier sleepy-song…

The rear axles hold the kick of tw… It is in the records of the patent… The farm boy says hello to you ins… A bucket of oil and a can of greas… Rain proof and fool proof they sta…

I SPOT the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins.

I LOVE him, I love him, ran the… And she formed his name on her ton… And she sent him word she loved hi… So much, and death was nothing; wo… All was nothing if her love for hi…

In western fields of corn and nort… They talk about me, a saloon with… The soft red lights, the long curv… The leather seats and dim corners, Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cut…

HOKUSAI’S portrait of himself Tells what his hat was like And his arms and legs. The only f… Are a river and a mountain And two laughing farmers.

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

SOMEBODY loses whenever somebo… This was known to the Chaldeans l… And more: somebody wins whenever s… This too was in the savvy of the… They take it heaven’s hereafter is…

HE lived on the wings of storm. The ashes are in Chihuahua. Out of Ludlow and coal towns in C… Sprang a vengeance of Slav miners… Killings ran under the spoken comm…

It’s a jazz affair, drum crashes a… The trombone pony neighs and the t… The banjo tickles and titters too… The chippies talk about the funnie… The cartoonists weep in their beer…

A million young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads, And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red rose...