What does a hangman think about When he goes home at night from wo… When he sits down with his wife an… Children for a cup of coffee and a Plate of ham and eggs, do they ask

She sits in the dust at the walls And makes cigars, Bending at the bench With fingers wage-anxious, Changing her sweat for the day’s p…

THIS is the song I rested with: The right shoulder of a strong man… The face of the rain that drizzled… The eyes of a child who slept whil… The petals of peony pink that flut…

THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs … near the shingle mill … winter morning. Falling of a dry leaf might be heard … circular steel tears through a log. Slope of woodland … ...

FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on ...

FLING your red scarf faster and… It is summer and the sun loves a m… masses of green. Your red scarf flashes across them… The silk and flare of it is a grea…

I AM the nigger. Singer of songs, Dancer. . . Softer than fluff of cotton. . . Harder than dark earth

GIVE me hunger, O you gods that sit and give The world its orders. Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure

WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin … in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall S...

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.

WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the… There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn wh… There came on the coast wind drive

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.

Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…

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…