#AmericanWriters
In Benidorm there are melons, Whole donkey—carts full Of innumerable melons, Ovals and balls, Bright green and thumpable
Grub-white mulberries redden among… I’ll go out and sit in white like… Doing nothing. July’s juice round… This park is fleshed with idiot pe… White catalpa flowers tower, toppl…
If you dissect a bird To diagram the tongue You’ll cut the chord Articulating song. If you flay a beast
Nobody in the lane, and nothing, n… Blackberries on either side, thoug… A blackberry alley, going down in… Somewhere at the end of it, heavin… Big as the ball of my thumb, and d…
The abstracts hover like dull ange… Nothing so vulgar as a nose or an… Bossing the ethereal blanks of the… Their whiteness bears no relation… Snow, chalk or suchlike. They’re
The photographic chamber of the ey… records bare painted walls, while… lays the chromium nerves of plumbi… such poverty assaults the ego; cau… naked in the merely actual room,
Summer grows old, cold—blooded mot… The insects are scant, skinny. In these palustral homes we only Croak and wither. Mornings dissipate in somnolence.
I thought that I could not be hur… I thought that I must surely be impervious to suffering— immune to pain or agony.
Through portico of my elegant hous… With your wild furies, disturbing… And the fabulous lutes and peacock… Of all decorum which holds the whi… Now, rich order of walls is fallen…
All day she plays at chess with th… Favored (while suddenly the rains… Beyond the window) she lies on cus… And nibbles an occasional bonbon o… Prim, pink—breasted, feminine, she…
Ravening through the persistent br… Of blunt pencils, rose-sprigged co… Postage stamps, stacked books’ cla… Neighborhood cockcrow —all nature’… The vaunting mind
The groundhog on the mountain did… But fatly scuttled into the splaye… And faced me, back to a ledge of d… Her sallow rodent teeth like casta… Against my leaning down, would not…
Cold on my narrow cot I lie and in sorrow look through my window—square of black: figured in the midnight sky, a mosaic of stars
Mayday: two came to field in such… `A daisied mead’, each said to eac… So were they one; so sought they c… Across barbed stile, through flock… `No pitchforked farmer, please,' s…
I ordered this, clean wood box Square as a chair and almost too h… I would say it was the coffin of a… Or a square baby Were there not such a din in it.