#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.