#AmericanWriters
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
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;
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…
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
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…
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—