#AmericanWriters
i spoke to thee with a smile and thou didst not answer thy mouth is as a chord of crimson music
the bed is not very big a sufficient pillow shoveling her small manure-shaped head one sheet on which distinctly wags at times the weary twig
Sometimes in)Spring a someone will lie(glued among familiar things newly which… transferred with dusk)wondering wh… does not fall into his mind
III Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window, into which people look(w…
(the phonograph’s voice like a kee… quickly over patriotic swill. The,negress,in the,rocker by the,c… and tipping,the flocks of pigeons.… ful loneliness,and the rather fat
as is the sea marvelous from god’s hands which sent her forth to sleep upon the world and the earth withers
the poem her belly marched through… one army. From her nostrils to h… she smelled of silence. The insp… of her glad leg pulled into a sole… my separate lusts
the mind is its own beautiful pris… Mind looked long at the sticky moo… opening in dusk her new wings then decently hanged himself,one a… The last thing he saw was you
cruelly,love walk the autumn long; the last flower in whose hair, they lips are cold with songs for which is
in Just- spring when the world is mud… luscious the little lame baloonman whistles far and wee
i like to think that on the flower you gave me when we loved the far-
yours is the music for no instrume… yours the preposterous colour unbe… —mine the unbought contemptuous in… till this our felsh merely shall b… by speaking flower
Picasso you give us things which bulge:grunting lungs pumped full o… you make us shrill
when life is quite through with and leaves say alas, much is to do for the swallow,that closes a flight in the blue;
little ladies than dead exactly dance in my head,precisely dance where danced la guerre. Mimi à