#AmericanWriters
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
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…
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
Among of green stiff old
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…