#AmericanWriters
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…
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.
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a w...
You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!
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 lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was