#AmericanWriters
(I) This is the sea, then, this great… How the sun’s poultice draws on my… Electrifyingly—colored sherbets, s… By pale girls, travel the air in s…
But I would rather be horizontal. I am not a tree with my root in th… Sucking up minerals and motherly l… So that each March I may gleam in… Nor am I the beauty of a garden b…
What is this, behind this veil, is… It is shimmering, has it breasts,… I am sure it is unique, I am sure… When I am quiet at my cooking I f… ‘Is this the one I am too appear…
Two, of course there are two. It seems perfectly natural now —— The one who never looks up, whose… And balled? like Blake’s. Who exhibits
Fired in sanguine clay, the model… Fit nowhere: thumbed out as a clas… By a casual friend, it stood Obtrusive in the long bookshelf, s… Thick volumes of prose—
It beguiles’ This little Odyssey In pink and lavender Over a surface of gently– Graded turquoise tiles
Here in this valley of discrete ac… We have not mountains, but mounts,… To the Adirondacks, to northern M… Themselves mere rocky hillocks to… Still, they’re out best mustering…
Kindness glides about my house. Dame Kindness, she is so nice! The blue and red jewels of her rin… In the windows, the mirrors Are filling with smiles.
What a thrill —— My thumb instead of an onion. The top quite gone Except for a sort of a hinge Of skin,
Born green we were to this flawed garden, but in speckled thickets, warted a… spitefully skulks our warden, fixing his snare
The idiot bird leaps out and drunk… Atop the broken universal clock: The hour is crowed in lunatic thir… Out painted stages fall apart by s… While all the actors halt in morta…
No use, no use, now, begging Reco… There is nothing to do with such a… Name, house, car keys, The little toy wife— Erased, sigh, sigh.
deep in liquid turquoise slivers of dilute light quiver in thin streaks of bright tinfoil
Nightfall, cold eye——neither dishe… These goatish tragedians who Hawk misfortune like figs and chic… And, plaintiff against each day, d… Nature’s partial, haphazard thumb.
This is a dark house, very big. I made it myself, Cell by cell from a quiet corner, Chewing at the grey paper, Oozing the glue drops,