#AmericanWriters
TAKE a hold now On the silver handles here, Six silver handles, One for each of his old pals. Take hold
JIMMY WIMBLETON listened a… Ditches along prairie roads of No… Filled the arch of night with youn… Infinite mathematical metronomic c… Rose and sang, rose in a choir of…
There will be a rusty gun on the w… The rifle grooves curling with fla… A spider will make a silver string… darkest, warmest corner of it. The trigger and the range-finder,…
THE PAWN-SHOP man knows hunge… And how far hunger has eaten the h… Of one who comes with an old keeps… Here are wedding rings and baby br… Scarf pins and shoe buckles, jewel…
HOKUSAI’S portrait of himself Tells what his hat was like And his arms and legs. The only f… Are a river and a mountain And two laughing farmers.
In western fields of corn and nort… They talk about me, a saloon with… The soft red lights, the long curv… The leather seats and dim corners, Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cut…
HIGH noon. White sun flashes on… asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr o… Women trapsing along in flimsy clo… play of sun-fire to their skin and… Inside the playhouse are movies fr…
There is a wolf in me . . . fangs… tongue for raw meat. . . and the h… this wolf because the wilderness g… will not let it go. There is a fox in me. . . a silver…
Many things I might have said tod… And I kept my mouth shut. So many times I was asked To come and say the same things Everybody was saying, no end
HERE is a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on, whether a funeral or a picnic crowd passes. A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broo...
LIPS half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hour…
GOOD-BY now to the streets and… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding… haunches,
WHILE the hum and the hurry Of passing footfalls Beat in my ear like the restless s… Of a wind-blown sea, A soul came to me
THERE was a late autumn cricket, And two smoldering mountain sunset… Under the valley roads of her eyes… There was a late autumn cricket, A hangover of summer song,
YOU have loved forty women, but y… You have led a hundred secret live… one thumb. You go round the world and fight i… win all the world’s honors, but wh…