#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
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
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square