Cornhuskers. 1918.
#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
JOY... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel... painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door...
or a man out of the ashes of false dawn muttering 'hot-dog’ to the night watchmen: Is there a spieler who has spoken the word or taken the number of night’s nothings? am I the spieler? ...
What is the name you called me?— And why did you go so soon? The crows lift their caws on the w… And the wind changed and was lonel… The warblers cry thier sleepy-song…
JOHN BROWN’S body under the m… Six feet of dust under the morning… And a panorama of war performs its… Over the six-foot stage of circlin… Room for Gettysburg, Wilderness,…
I KNOW an ice handler who wears… pearl buttons the size of a dollar… And he lugs a hundred—pound hunk i… box, helps himself to cold ham and… Tells the bartender it’s hotter th…
I AM the people—the mob—the crowd… Do you know that all the great wor… done through me? I am the workingman, the inventor,… world’s food and clothes.
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…
YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock w… Those grappling hooks, those wheel… The dome and the wings of you, ***… The red roof and the door of you, I know where your songs came from.
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,…
HOG Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nat… Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders:
SNOW took us away from the smoke… Snow changes our bones into fog st… Six bits for a sniff of snow in th… Our bones cry and cry, no let-up,… More, more-a yen is on, a long yen…
MY head knocks against the stars. My feet are on the hilltops. My finger-tips are in the valleys… universal life. Down in the sounding foam of prima…
Many ways to say good night. Fireworks at a pier on the Fourth… spell it with red wheels and yello… They fizz in the air, touch the wa… Rockets make a trajectory of gold-…
YOUR western heads here cast on… You are the two that fade away tog… Partners in the mist. Lunging buffalo shoulder, Lean Indian face,
OF my city the worst that men wil… You took little children away from… And the glimmers that played in th… And the reckless rain; you put the… To work, broken and smothered, for…