#AmericanWriters
the bigness of cannon is skilful, but i have seen death’s clever enormous voice which hides in a fragility
in the rain- darkness, the sunset being sheathed i sit and think of you the holy
I will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burn… I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive
Thou in whose sword-great story sh… Of history her heroes, sounds the… Of those vast armies of the marchi… With standards and the neighing of… Moving to war across the smiling m…
i like to think that on the flower you gave me when we loved the far-
this(let’s remember)day died again… again;whose golden, crimson dooms… an oceaning abyss of orange dream larger than sky times earth:a flam… sould immemorially forevering am—
if there are any heavens my mother… one. It will not be a pansy heaven… a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-… it will be a heaven of blackred ro… my father will be(deep like a rose
pieces(in darker than small is dirtiest any city’s least street)of mirror lying are each(why
somewhere i have never travelled,… any experience,your eyes have thei… in your most frail gesture are thi… or which i cannot touch because th… your slightest look easily will un…
I have seen her a stealthily frail flower walking with its fellows in… of light,against whose enormous cu… exactly cubes of tiny fragrance tr… i have watched certain petals rapi…
XXX i sing of Olaf glad and big whose warmest heart recoiled at wa… a conscientious object—or his wellbelovéd colonel(trig
little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower who found you in the green forest
writhe and gape of tortured perspective rasp and graze of splintered normality
since feeling is first who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you; wholly to be a fool
there is a moon sole in the blue night amorous of waters