#AmericanWriters
My knees are loose-like, my feet want to sling their selves. I feel like tickling you under the chin-honey-and a-asking: Why Does a Chicken Cross the Road? When the hens are a-laying eg...
BLOSSOMS of babies Blinking their stories Come soft On the dusk and the babble; Little red gamblers,
‘The past is a bucket of ashes.’ THE WOMAN named To-morrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time and does her hair the way she want…
On Forty-first Street near Eighth Avenue a frame house wobbles. If houses went on crutches this house would be
OPEN the door now. Go roll up the collar of your coat To walk in the changing scarf of m… Tell your sins here to the pearl f… And know for once a deepening nigh…
The haggard woman with a hacking cough and a deathless love whispers of white flowers... in your poem you pour like a cup of coffee, Gabriel. The slim girl whose voice was lost in the w...
FELIKSOWA has gone again from… She and her husband took with them… She went like a swine, because she… That is where she ought to live, w… She was something of an ape before…
AMONG the grassroots In the moonlight, who comes circli… red tongues and high noses? Is one of ‘em Buck and one of ’em White Fang?
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
COME you, cartoonists, Hang on a strap with me here At seven o’clock in the morning On a Halsted street car. Take your pencils
DREAMS in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day’s close going bac… To the gray things, the dark thing… The far, deep things of dreamland.
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 … ...
You come along. . . tearing your s… Jesus. Where do you get that stuff? What do you know about Jesus? Jesus had a way of talking soft an…
THE WASHERWOMAN is a member… And over the tub of suds rubbing u… She sings that Jesus will wash he… And the red wrongs she has done G… Shall be white as driven snow.
I REMEMBER the Chillicothe ba… And the shoulders of the Chillico… And the umpire’s voice was hoarse…