#Americans
LITTLE one, you have been buzzi… Flittering in the newspapers and d… lawyers And amid the educated men of the c… getting an earful of speech from t…
NEITHER rose leaves gathered in… Cinders-these-hissing in a marl an…
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—
THE SIX month child Fresh from the tub Wriggles in our hands. This is our fish child. Give her a nickname: Slippery.
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...
LET us sit by a hissing steam rad… And let us talk about milk wagon d… Let us keep our feet in wool slipp… Let us write of olden, golden days… A roustabout hunched on a coal wag…
‘YOU ****,' he flung at her. It was more than a hundred times He had thrown it into her face And by this time it meant nothing… She said to herself upstairs sweep…
TAKE a hold now On the silver handles here, Six silver handles, One for each of his old pals. Take hold
I TOO have a garret of old playt… I have tin soldiers with broken ar… I have a wagon and the wheels gone… I have guns and a drum, a jumping-… And dust is on them and I never l…
MY people are gray, pigeon gray, dawn gray, storm gray… I call them beautiful, and I wonder where they are going.
I AM making a Cartoon of a Woman… She is the Great Dirty Mother. And Many Children hang on her Ap… Feet, snuggle at her Breasts.
ON the one hand the steel works. On the other hand the penitentiary… Sante Fé trains and Alton trains Between smokestacks on the west And gray walls on the east.
MAMIE beat her head against the… town and dreamed of romance and bi… somewhere the way the railroad tra… She could see the smoke of the eng… where the streaks of steel flashed…
I AM the mist, the impalpable mis… Back of the thing you seek. My arms are long, Long as the reach of time and spac… Some toil and toil, believing,
THE FLUTTER of blue pigeon’s… Under a river bridge Hunting a clean dry arch, A corner for a sleep– This flutters here in a woman’s ha…