#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,
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
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
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...
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband’s… I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of