Cornhuskers. 1918.
#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
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.
THE bronze General Grant riding… Park Shrivels in the sun by day when th… by in long processions going somew… for dinner and matinees and buying…
Bend low again, night of summer st… So near you are, sky of summer sta… So near, a long-arm man can pick o… Pick off what he wants in the sky… So near you are, summer stars,
The haggard woman with a hacking cough and a deathless love whispers of white flowers... in your poem you pour like a cup of coffee, Gabriel. The slim girl whose voice was lost in the w...
NAPOLEON shifted, Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,
YOU came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river. And I said, you remember,
AMONG the grassroots In the moonlight, who comes circli… red tongues and high noses? Is one of ‘em Buck and one of ’em White Fang?
THEY have taken the ball of eart… and made it a little thing. They were held to the land and hor… they were held to the little seas. They have changed and shaped and w…
IF the oriole calls like last yea… when the south wind sings in the o… if the leaves climb and climb on a… saying over a song learnt from the… if the crickets send up the same o…
LET me be monosyllabic to-day, O… Yesterday I loosed a snarl of wor… on a child. To-day, let me be monosyllabic … a… who wash sunlight in their fingers…
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…
YOUR eyes and the valley are mem… Your eyes fire and the valley a bo… It was here a moonrise crept over… It was here we turned the coffee c… And your eyes and the moon swept t…
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…
I AM the undertow Washing tides of power Battering the pillars Under your things of high law. I am a sleepless
I SALUTED a nobody. I saw him in a looking-glass. He smiled—so did I. He crumpled the skin on his forehe… frowning—so did I.