#AmericanWriters
I THOUGHT of killing myself be… I don’t care like I used to; I la… When the sun is in my eyes and the…
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 … ...
THE working girls in the morning… long lines of them afoot amid the… and factories, thousands with litt… lunches wrapped in newspapers unde… Each morning as I move through th…
Drum on your drums, batter on your… sob on the long cool winding saxop… Go to it, O jazzmen. Sling your knuckles on the bottoms… tin pans, let your trombones ooze,…
OUT of the testimony of such relu… Out of a rag saturated with smears… From such a rag that has wiped the… From such a rag perhaps I shall w…
SAND of the sea runs red Where the sunset reaches and quive… Sand of the sea runs yellow Where the moon slants and wavers.
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…
telling where the wind comes from open a story. Pencils telling where the wind goes end a story.
STRONG rocks hold up the riksdag bridge... always strong river waters shoving their shoulders against them... In the riksdag to-night three hundred men are talking to each other about m...
GUNS on the battle lines have po… between Brussels and Paris. And, William Morris, when I read… the great arches and naves and lit… corners of the Churches of Northe…
THEY have taken the ball of eart… and made it a little thing. They were held to the land and hor… they were held to the little seas. They have changed and shaped and w…
EVERYBODY loved Chick Lorimer… Far off Everybody loved her. So we all love a wild girl keeping… On a dream she wants.
(Washington, August, 1918)I HAV… I have seen this city in the night… And in the night and the moon I h… The float of the dome in the day a… The float of the dome in the night…
SOMEBODY’S little girl-how eas… Somebody’s little girl-she played… It was somewhere on the Erie line… And out of her hair she shook the… Somebody’s little girl-forty littl…
I was a boy when I heard three re… a thousand Frenchmen died in the s… for: Liberty, Equality, Fraternit… why men die for words. I was older; men with mustaches, s…