#AmericanWriters
I dreamed Ted Williams leaning at night against the Eiffel Tower, weeping… He was in uniform and his bat lay at his feet
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…
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
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…
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!
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 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…
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…
I am a great American I am almost nationalistic about it… I love America like a madness! But I am afraid to return to Amer… I’m even afraid to go into the Am…
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…
How inseparable you and the Ameri… there to see; you and America, lik… ground, are one the same; yet how… in the state of Oregon. . . dead e… like a snow polar loping the
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…
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,
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…