#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury #1950 #Xaipe
between the breasts of bestial Marj lie large men who praise Marj’s cleancornered strokable
“kitty”. sixteen,5′ 11″,white,pros… ducking always the touch of must a… whose slippery body is Death’s lit… skilled in quick softness. Unspon… the signal perfume of whose unrepu…
Thy fingers make early flowers of all things. thy hair mostly the hours love: a smoothness which sings, saying
this is the garden:colours come an… frail azures fluttering from night… strong silent greens silently ling… absolute lights like baths of gold… This is the garden:pursed lips do…
the emperor sleeps in a palace of porphyry which was a million years building he takes the air in a howdah of jasper beneath saffron
and this day it was Spring….us drew lewdly the murmurous minute c… smelloftheworld. We intricately alive,cleaving the luminous stamme… (eagerly just not each other touch…
when faces called flowers float ou… and breathing is wishing and wishi… but keeping is downward and doubti… —it’s april(yes, april;my darling)… yes the pretty birds frolic as spr…
i like to think that on the flower you gave me when we loved the far-
I like my body when it is with you… body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it… i like its hows. i like to feel t…
10 maggie and milly and molly and may went down to the beach(to play one… and maggie discovered a shell that… so sweetly she couldn’t remember h…
may i feel said he (i’ll squeal said she just once said he) it’s fun said she (may i touch said he
Thou aged unreluctant earth who do… with quivering continual thighs in… the thrilling rain the slender par… to toy with thy extraordinary lust… (the sinuous rain which rising fro…
cruelly,love walk the autumn long; the last flower in whose hair, they lips are cold with songs for which is
into the strenuous briefness Life: handorgans and April darkness,friends i charge laughing.
“next to of course god america i love you land of the pilgrims’ and… say can you see by the dawn’s earl… country 'tis of centuries come and… and are no more what of it we shou…
