#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
THE WIND stops, the wind begins… The wind says stop, begin. A sea shovel scrapes the sand floo… The shovel changes, the floor chan… The sandpipers, maybe they know.
Six streets come together here. They feed people and wagons into t… In and out all day horses with tho… Men with shovels, women with baske… Six ends of streets and no sleep f…
BROTHER, I am fire Surging under the ocean floor. I shall never meet you, brother— Not for years, anyhow; Maybe thousands of years, brother.
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…
I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum… I hate and kill better men than I… In the ends of my fingers the itch… This is the hate my father gave me… Let us go on, brother hoodlums, le…
The long beautiful night of the wi… The long night hanging down from t… Swinging, swaying, to the wind for… What is the humming, swishing thin… The rain, the wind, the swishing w…
IN a Yiddish eating place on Riv… They know it is September on Rivi… Here the children snozzle at milk… Here the stranger wonders how so m…
The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians. The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans, Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown. ...
Look out how you use proud words. When you let proud words go, it is… They wear long boots, hard boots;… Look out how you use proud words.
I WILL keep you and bring hands… I will run a spear in you for a gr… I will stab you between the ribs o…
I KNOW a Jew fish crier down on… voice like a north wind blowing ov… in January. He dangles herring before prospect… a joy identical with that of Pavlo…
AFTER the last red sunset glimme… Black on the line of a low hill ri… Formed into moving shadows, I saw A plowboy and two horses lined aga… Plowing in the dusk the last furro…
I TOO have a garret of old playt… I have tin soldiers with broken ar… I have a wagon and the wheels gone… I have guns and a drum, a jumping-… And dust is on them and I never l…
HIGH noon. White sun flashes on… asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr o… Women trapsing along in flimsy clo… play of sun-fire to their skin and… Inside the playhouse are movies fr…
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.