#AmericanWriters
Lured by the wall, and drawn To stare below the roof, Where pigeons nest aloof From prowling cats and men, I count the sash and bar
Dark cypresses— The world is uneasily happy; It will all be forgotten. —Theodore Storm Mother of roots, you have not seed…
All right. Try this, Then. Every body I know and care for, And every body Else is going
Why should we do this? What good… how can we do such a thing? How ca… —Freud My name is James A. Wright, and… Twenty-five miles from this infect…
The house was really a cellar deep… Belmont Brewery. My father’s big… from the outside, and from within… leaned and helped. The slow door g… in delighted by our fear, and laid…
Beautiful natural blossoms, Pure delicate body, You stand without trembling. Little mist of fallen starlight, Perfect, beyond my reach,
Nightfall, that saw the morning-gl… Tendril and string against the cru… Nurses him now, his skeleton for g… His locks for comfort curled among… Shuttles of moonlight weave his sh…
It can’t be the passing of time th… That white shadow across the water… Just offshore. I shiver a little, with the evenin… I turn down the steep path to find
In the Shreve High football stadi… I think of Polacks nursing long b… And gray faces of Negroes in the… And the ruptured night watchman of… Dreaming of heroes.
It is all right. All they do Is go in by dividing One rib from another. I wouldn’t Lie to you. It hurts Like nothing I know. All they do
The night’s drifts Pile up below me and behind my bac… Slide down the hill, rise again, a… Eerie little dunes on the roof of… In the valley below me,
Just off the highway to Rochester… Twilight bounds softly forth on th… And the eyes of those two Indian… Darken with kindness. They have come gladly out of the w…
I was only a young man In those days. On that evening The cold was so God damned Bitter there was nothing. Nothing. I was in trouble
Near the dry river’s water-mark we… Your brother Minnegan, Flopped like a fish against the mu… Beany, the kid whose yellow hair t… Told me to find you, even if the r…
And how can I, born in evil days And fresh from failure, ask a kind… —Written A.D. 819 Po Chu-i, balding old politician, What’s the use?