#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
ONE man killed another. The sayi… The killer wept over the dead. Th… Why is the sun a red ball in the s… Why is the moon a tumbling chimney…
RED drips from my chin where I h… Not all the blood, nowhere near al… Clots of red mess my hair And the tiger, the buffalo, know h… I was a killer.
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…
TWENTY men stand watching the m… Stabbing the sides of the ditch Where clay gleams yellow, Driving the blades of their shovel… Deeper and deeper for the new gas…
Drum on your drums, batter on your… sob on the long cool winding saxop… Go to it, O jazzmen. Sling your knuckles on the bottoms… tin pans, let your trombones ooze,…
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…
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…
WONDER as of old things Fresh and fair come back Hangs over pasture and road. Lush in the lowland grasses rise And upland beckons to upland.
HOG Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nat… Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders:
NAPOLEON shifted, Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,
Millions of men go to war, acres of them are buried, guns and ships broken, cities burned, villages sent up in smoke, and children where cows are killed off amid hoarse barbecues vanish...
SUNDAY night and the park polic… is dark as a stack of black cats o… A big picnic boat comes home to C… farms of Saugatuck. Hundreds of electric bulbs break t…
YOUR western heads here cast on… You are the two that fade away tog… Partners in the mist. Lunging buffalo shoulder, Lean Indian face,
LEGS hold a torso away from the… And a regular high poem of legs is… Powers of bone and cord raise a be… Out of ooze and over the loam wher… And arms have a chance to hammer a…
BY day... tireless smokestacks...… By night... all lit up... fire-gol…