#AmericanWriters
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow