#AmericanWriters
writhe and gape of tortured perspective rasp and graze of splintered normality
the sky a silver dissonance by the correct fingers of April resolved into a
hist whist little ghostthings tip-toe twinkle-toe little twitchy
i will be M o ving in the Street of her bodyfee 1 inga ro undMe the tr… lovely;muscles-sinke x p i r i… uddeni
nobody loses all the time i had an uncle named Sol who was a born failure and nearly everybody said he should ha… into vaudeville perhaps because my…
god gloats upon Her stunning flesh… the rechings of Her green body amo… unseen things, things obscene (Who… the caving ages curiously con) —but the lunge of Her hunger softl…
O sweet spontaneous earth how often have the doting fingers of
my smallheaded pearshaped lady in gluey twilight moving,suddenly is three animals. The minute waist continually
the bed is not very big a sufficient pillow shoveling her small manure-shaped head one sheet on which distinctly wags at times the weary twig
the wind is a Lady with bright slender eyes(who moves)at sunset and who—touches—the hills without any reason
when you went away it was morning (that is,big horses;light feeling… streets;heels taking derbies (wher… hurriedly hunched over swill;one b… trolley imposingly empty;snickerin…
O Distinct Lady of my unkempt adoration if I have made a fragile curtain song under the window of your soul
(one!) the wisti-twisti barber -pole is climbing people high,up-in tenements talk.in sawdust Voices
nearer:breath of my breath:take no… limbs from me:make my pain their c… letting they tigers of smooth swee… slowly in dumb blossoms of new min… deeper:blood of my blood:with upwa…
my love thy hair is one kingdom the king whereof is darkness thy forehead is a flight of flower… thy head is a quick forest