#AmericanWriters
CROSS the hands over the breast… Straighten the legs a little more—… And call for the wagon to come and… Her mother will cry some and so wi… brothers.
BODY of Jesus taken down from th… Carved in ivory by a lover of Chr… It is a child’s handful you are he… The breadth of a man’s finger, And this ivory loin cloth
THESE are the tawny days: your f… The grapes take on purple: the sun… The bashful mornings hurl gray mis… Creep, silver on the field, the fr… Run on, yellow balls on the hills,…
And so to-day—they lay him away— the boy nobody knows the name of– the buck private—the unknown soldi… the doughboy who dug under and die… when they told him to– that’s him.
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.
ELSIE FLIMMERWON, you got a… The houses go wild when you finish… It is long ago, Elsie Flimmerwon,… It is long ago, Elsie, and now th… Then you were a little thing in ch…
UNDER the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker,
Shine on, O moon of summer. Shine to the leaves of grass, cata… All silver under your rain to-nigh… An Italian boy is sending songs t… A Polish boy is out with his best…
I SAW Man, the man-hunter, Hunting with a torch in one hand And a kerosene can in the other, Hunting with guns, ropes, shackles… I listened
Lincoln? He was a mystery in smoke and flag… Saying yes to the smoke, yes to th… Yes to the paradoxes of democracy, Yes to the hopes of government
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…
THERE’S a hole in the bottom of… Do you want affidavits? There’s a man in the moon with mon… Do you want affidavits? There are ten dancing girls in a s…
It’s going to come out all right&m… The sun, the birds, the grass&mdas… They get along—and we’ll get… Some days will be rainy and you wi… And the letter you wait for won’t…
THE BRASS medallion profile of… It is not jingling with loose chan… It is not stuck up in a show place… I carry it in a special secret poc… And it is under my pillow at night…
CLOSE-MOUTHED you sat five t… let out a whisper. Processions came by, marchers, ask… answered with grey eyes never blin… never talking.