#AmericanWriters
This man makes a pseudonym And crawls behind it like a worm. This woman on the telephone Says she is a man, not a woman. The mask increases, eats the worm,
Viciousness in the kitchen! The potatoes hiss. It is all Hollywood, windowless, The fluorescent light wincing on a… Coy paper strips for doors
This is winter, this is night, sma… A sort of black horsehair, A rough, dumb country stuff Steeled with the sheen Of what green stars can make it to…
That grandiose colossus who Stood astride The envious assaults of sea (Essaying, wave by wave, Tide by tide,
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…
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…
Who are these people at the bridge… The rector, the midwife, the sexto… In my sleeveless summery dress I… And they are all gloved and covere… They are smiling and taking out ve…
Now this particular girl During a ceremonious april walk With her latest suitor Found herself, of a sudden, intole… By the birds’ irregular babel
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…
Worship this world of watercolor m… in glass pagodas hung with veils o… where diamonds jangle hymns within… and sap ascends the steeple of the… A saintly sparrow jargons madrigal…
You will be aware of an absence, p… Growing beside you, like a tree, A death tree, color gone, an Aust… Balding, gelded by lightning—an il… And a sky like a pig’s backside, a…
What was she doing when it blew in Over the seven hills, the red furr… Was she arranging cups? It is imp… Was she at the window, listening? In that valley the train shrieks e…
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,
Revolving in oval loops of solar s… Couched in cauls of clay as in hol… Dead men render love and war no he… Lulled in the ample womb of the fu… No spiritual Caesars are these de…
“I shall never get you put togethe… Pieced, glued, and properly jointe… Mule—bray, pig—grunt and bawdy cac… Proceed from your great lips. It’s worse than a barnyard.