#AmericanWriters
What simple profundities What profound simplicities To sit down among the trees and breathe with them in murmur brool and breeze—
Uncomprising year’I see no mean… Though this abled self is here non… either in trade gold or grammaticn… I drop the wheelwright’s simple… Why weave the garland? Why ring t…
Budger of history Brake of time… Toy of universe Grandest of all… Do I hate the mischievous thunder… The bumpy club of One Million B.… Catapult Da Vinci tomahawk Coc…
Should I get married? Should I b… Astound the girl next door with my… Don’t take her to movies but to ce… tell all about werewolf bathtubs a… then desire her and kiss her and a…
My hands did numb to beauty as they reached into Death and tig… O sovereign was my touch upon the tan-inks’s fragile page! Quickly, my eyes moved quickly,
O this political air so heavy with… and motors of a slow night, and no… but rain to walk—How it rings the… The umbrella’d congressmen; the ra… of big black cars, the shoulders o…
Budger of history Brake of time Y… Toy of universe Grandest of all s… Do I hate the mischievous thunder… The bumpy club of One Million B.… Catapult Da Vinci tomahawk Cochi…
With a love a madness for Shelley Chatterton Rimbaud and the needy-yap of my youth has gone from ear to ear: I HATE OLD POETMEN!
They deliver the edicts of God without delay And are exempt from apprehension from detention And with their God-given
I reached heaven and it was syrupy… It was oppressively sweet. Croaking substances stuck to my kn… Of all substances St. Michael was… I grabbed him and pasted him on my…
When I laid aside the verses of M… I lived a life of canned heat and… alone, not far from my body did I… walked with a hope of a sudden dre… O rose, downfallen, bend your huge…
I stand in the dark light in the d… street and look up at my window, I was born there. The lights are on; other people ar…
I am watching them churn the last… They are waiting for me to die; They want to make buttons out of m… Where are my sisters and brothers? That tall monk there, loading my u…
There’s a truth limits man A truth prevents his going any far… The world is changing The world knows it’s changing Heavy is the sorrow of the day
a slow thoughtful spontaneous poem I am 32 years old and finally I look my age, if not… Is it a good face what’s no more a… It seems fatter. And my hair,