#AmericanWriters #ArsPoetica
In the great snowfall before the b… colored yule tree lights windows, the only glow for contemp… along this road I worked the print shop
Nothing worth noting except an Andromeda with quadrangular shoots— the boots of the people
He lived—childhood summers thru bare feet then years of money’s lack and heat beside the river—out of flood
The chemist creates the brazen approximation: Life Thy will be done
The wild and wavy event now chintz at the window was revolution . . . Adams to Miss Abigail Smith:
My mother saw the green tree toad on the window sill her first one since she was young. We saw it breathe
I rose from marsh mud, algae, equisetum, willows, sweet green, noisy birds and frogs to see her wed in the rich
Feign a great calm; all gay transport soon ends. Chant: who knows— flight’s end or flight’s beginning for the resting gull?
You are my friend— you bring me peaches and the high bush cranberry you carry my fishpole
And the place was water Fish fowl flood
My wife is ill! And I sit waiting for a quorum Fast ride
My friend tree I sawed you down but I must attend an older friend the sun
Popcorn—can cover screwed to the wall over a hole so the cold can’t mouse in
Well, spring overflows the land, floods floor, pump, wash machine of the woman moored to this low sh… Goodbye to lilacs by the door and all I planted for the eye.
What horror to awake at night and in the dimness see the light. Time is white mosquitoes bite I’ve spent my life on nothing.