#AmericanWriters
I DON’T know how he came, shambling, dark, and strong. He stood in the city and told men: My people are fools, my people are… Always he kept on asking: Where d…
I AM The Great White Way of the… When you ask what is my desire, I… “Girls fresh as country wild flowe… With young faces tired of the cows… Eager in their eyes as the dawn to…
THE RIVER is gold under a suns… It is a molten gold someone pours… A woman mixing a wedding cake of b… Knows what the sunset is pouring o… The river twists in a letter S.
A million young workmen straight and strong lay stiff on the grass and roads, And the million are now under soil and their rottening flesh will in the years feed roots of blood-red rose...
PIETRO has twenty red and blue… They flutter and dance pulling Pi… A nickel apiece is what they sell… Wishing children tag Pietro’s hee… He sells out and goes the streets…
DUST of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now. . .
MOMUS is the name men give your… The brag of its tone, like a long… Finding a way mid mist on a shorel… Where gray rocks let the salt wate… Against horizons purple, silent.
I REMEMBER the Chillicothe ba… And the shoulders of the Chillico… And the umpire’s voice was hoarse…
LAST night a January wind was ri… over our house and whistling a wol… eaves. I sat in a leather rocker and read… the Browning poem, Childe Roland…
WHAT cry of peach blossoms let loose on the air today I heard with my face thrown in the pink-white of it all? in the red whisper of it all?
IN a Yiddish eating place on Riv… They know it is September on Rivi… Here the children snozzle at milk… Here the stranger wonders how so m…
Let the crows go by hawking their… They have been swimming in midnigh… Let 'em hawk their caw and caw. Let the woodpecker drum and drum o… He has been swimming in red and bl…
ROSES and gold For you today, And the flash of flying flags. I will have Ashes,
I CANNOT tell you now; When the wind’s drive and whirl Blow me along no longer, And the wind’s a whisper at last— Maybe I’ll tell you then—
MRS. GABRIELLE GIOVANNI… every morning at nine o’clock With kindling wood piled on top of… looking straight ahead to find the… Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pietro…