#AmericanWriters
It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
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.
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
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 . . .
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail