Cornhuskers. 1918.
#AmericanWriters
HATS, where do you belong? what is under you? On the rim of a skyscraper’s foreh… I looked down and saw: hats: fifty… Swarming with a noise of bees and…
I SAW Man, the man-hunter, Hunting with a torch in one hand And a kerosene can in the other, Hunting with guns, ropes, shackles… I listened
I KNOW an ice handler who wears… pearl buttons the size of a dollar… And he lugs a hundred—pound hunk i… box, helps himself to cold ham and… Tells the bartender it’s hotter th…
SHAKE back your hair, O red-hea… Let go your laughter and keep your… Somewhere is a man looking for a r… Around and around go ten thousand… I have seen them hunting, hunting.
FACES of two eternities keep loo… One is Omar Khayam and the red st… wherein men forget yesterday and t… and remember only the voices and s… the stories, newspapers and fights…
THE SEA is large. The sea hold on a leg of land in t… Five white houses on a half-mile s… Not so long ago … the sea was larg… And to-day the sea has lost nothin…
TWO Swede families live downstairs and an Irish policeman upstairs, and an old soldier, Uncle Joe. Two Swede boys go upstairs and see Joe. His wife is dead, his only son is dead, and ...
In the loam we sleep, In the cool moist loam, To the lull of years that pass And the break of stars, From the loam, then,
THROW roses on the sea where the… The roses speak to the sea, And the sea to the dead. Throw roses, O lovers– Let the leaves wash on the salt in…
I will read ashes for you, if you… I will look on the fire and tell y… And out of the red and black tongu… I will tell how fire comes And how fire runs far as the sea.
STYLE—go ahead talking about sty… You can tell where a man gets his… as you can tell where Pavlowa got… or Ty Cobb his batting eye. Go on talking.
DAYS of the dead men, Danny. Drum for the dead, drum on your remembering heart. Jaurès, a great love-heart of Fra… a slug of lead in the red valves.
JOHN BROWN’S body under the m… Six feet of dust under the morning… And a panorama of war performs its… Over the six-foot stage of circlin… Room for Gettysburg, Wilderness,…
The mare Alix breaks the world’s trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an Illinois race track on a summer afternoon. I see the timekeepers put their heads to...
I was born in the morning of the w… So I know how morning looks morning in the valley wanting, morning on a mountain wanting. Morning looks like people look,