#AmericanWriters
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,…
WISHES left on your lips The mark of their wings. Regrets fly kites in your eyes.
FLANDERS, the name of a place,… Spells itself with letters, is wri… “Where is Flanders?” was asked on… Flanders known only to those who l… And milked cows and made cheese an…
DOWN between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock. The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble should…
RINGS of iron gray smoke; a woman’s steel face '¦ looking '¦ looking. Funnels of an ocean liner negotiating a fog night; pouring a taffy mass down the wind; layers of soot on the to...
My knees are loose-like, my feet want to sling their selves. I feel like tickling you under the chin-honey-and a-asking: Why Does a Chicken Cross the Road? When the hens are a-laying eg...
THERE are places I go when I am… One is a marsh pool where I used… with a long-ear hound-dog. One is a wild crabapple tree; I w… a moonlight night with a girl.
THE DOUBLE moon, one on the hi… The sky moon of fire and the river… I saw them last night, a cradle mo… The river-I remember this like a… I know now it takes many many year…
THE TELESCOPE picks off star… on the clean steel sky and sends i… The telephone picks off my voice a… sends it cross country a thousand… The eyes in my head pick off pages…
INTO the gulf and the pit of the dark night, the cold night, there is a man goes into the dark and the cold and when he comes back to his people he brings fire in his hands and they rem...
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…
The little girl saw her first troo… ‘What are those?’ ‘Soldiers.’ ‘What are soldiers?’ ‘They are for war. They fight and…
OVER the dead line we have calle… To come across with a word to us, Some beaten whisper of what happen… Where you are over the dead line Deaf to our calls and voiceless.
DUST of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now. . .
ROSES and gold For you today, And the flash of flying flags. I will have Ashes,