#AmericanWriters
(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion....
GRIEG being dead we may speak of… Grieg being dead we can talk about… Grieg being with Ibsen, Björnson… Grieg being dead does not care a h… Morning, Spring, Anitra’s Dance,
THE child’s wonder At the old moon Comes back nightly. She points her finger To the far silent yellow thing
NEW-MOWN hay smell and wind of… a woman whose ribs had the power o… them and her hands were tough for… was passion for life in her womb. She and her man crossed the ocean…
THEY offer you many things, I a few. Moonlight on the play of fountains… With water sparkling a drowsy mono… Bare-shouldered, smiling women and…
THE SIX month child Fresh from the tub Wriggles in our hands. This is our fish child. Give her a nickname: Slippery.
I TELL them where the wind comes… Where the music goes when the fidd… Kids-I saw one with a proud chin,… And the moonline creeping white on… I have seen their heads in the sta…
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.
Many things I might have said tod… And I kept my mouth shut. So many times I was asked To come and say the same things Everybody was saying, no end
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
PAULA is digging and shaping the… Scarlet Chinese talker of summer. Two petals of crabapple blossom bl… hair, And fluff of white from a cottonwo…
LAY me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a crowb… Let me pry loose old walls. Let me lift and loosen old foundat… Lay me on an anvil, O God.
This town belongs to the Dead, to the Dead and to the Wilderness. Back of the clamps on a fireproof door they hold the papers of the Dead in a house here And when two living men fall ou...
IF we were such and so, the same… maybe we too would be slingers and… tumbling half over in the water mi… tumbling half over at the horse he… tumbling our purple numbers.
ONE by one lights of a skyscraper… I believe the skyscraper loves nig… And loves the white of her shoulde… The masonry of steel looks to the… He is a little dizzy and almost da…