#AmericanWriters
The opals hiding your lids as you sleep, as you ride ponies mysteriously, spring to bloom like the blue flowers of autumn each nine o’clock. And curls
Have you forgotten what we were li… when we were still first rate and the day came fat with an apple… it’s no use worrying about Time but we did have a few tricks up ou…
Not you, lean quarterlies and swar… with your studious incursions towa… nor you, experimental theatre in w… is wedding Poetic Insight perpetu… promenading Grand Opera, obvious…
It’s my lunch hour, so I go for a walk among the hum-colored cabs. First, down the sidewalk where laborers feed their dirty glistening torsos sandwiches
Alone at night in the wet city the country’s wit is not memorable. The wind has blown
Well now, hold on maybe I won’t go to sleep at all and it’ll be a beautiful white nig… or else I’ll collapse completely from nerves and be calm
My quietness has a man in it, he i… and he carries me quietly, like a… He has several likenesses, like st… My quietness has a number of naked… so many pistols I have borrowed to…
Am I to become profligate as if I… as if I were French? Each time my heart is broken it ma… (and how the same names keep recur… list!), but one of these days ther…
I’m not going to cry all the time nor shall I laugh all the time, I don’t prefer one “strain” to ano… I’d have the immediacy of a bad mo… not just a sleeper, but also the b…
Now that our hero has come back to… in his white pants and we know his… trembling like a flag under fire, we see the calm cold river is supp… our forces, the beautiful history.
Did you see me walking by the Bui… I was thinking of you having a Coke in the heat it was y… I saw on the movie magazine, no it… I was thinking of you
I am not a painter, I am a poet. Why? I think I would rather be a painter, but I am not. Well, for instance, Mike Goldberg is starting a painting. I drop in.
Melancholy breakfast blue overhead blue underneath the silent egg thinks and the toaster’s electrical ear waits
Is it dirty does it look dirty that’s what you think of in the ci… does it just seem dirty that’s what you think of in the ci…
When music is far enough away the eyelid does not often move and objects are still as lavender without breath or distant rejoinde… The cloud is then so subtly dragge…