#AmericanWriters
A porcupine skin, Stiff with bad tanning, It must have ended somewhere. Stuffed horned owl Pompous
I like Canadians. They are so unlike Americans. They go home at night. Their cigarettes don’t smell bad. Their hats fit.
He tried to spit out the truth; Dry—mouthed at first, He drooled and slobbered in the en… Truth dribbling his chin.
They sucked us in; King and country, Christ Almighty And the rest. Patriotism,
Drummed their boots on the camion… Hob—nailed boots on the camion flo… Sergeants stiff, Corporals sore. Lieutenant thought of a Mestre wh…
So now, Losing the three last night, Taking them back today, Dripping and dark the woods . . .
The only man I ever loved Said good bye And went away He was killed in Picardy On a sunny day.
Desire and All the sweet pulsing aches And gentle hurtings That were you, Are gone into the sullen dark.
Workingmen believed He busted trusts, And put his picture in their windo… 'What he’d have done in France!' They said.
For we have thought the longer tho… And gone the shorter way. And we have danced to devils’ tune… Shivering home to pray; To serve one master in the night,
I’m off’n wild wimmen An Cognac An Sinnin’ For I’m in loOOOOOOOve.
In the rain in the rain in the rai… Does it rain in Spain? Oh yes my dear on the contrary and… The dancers dance in long white pa… It isn’t right to yence your aunts
Men went happily to death But they were not the men Who marched For years Up to the line.
Soldiers never do die well; Crosses mark the places— Wooden crosses where they fell, Stuck above their faces. Soldiers pitch and cough and twitc…