#AmericanWriters
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,
Compelled by calamity’s magnet They loiter and stare as if the ho… Burnt—out were theirs, or as if th… Some scandal might any minute ooze From a smoke—choked closet into li…
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.
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…
Soliloquy Of The Solipsist I? I walk alone; The midnight street Spins itself from under my feet;
Or, cette jeune fille pointilleuse Lors d’une cérémonieuse promenade… Avec son dernier soupirant Fut soudain frappée, intolérableme… Par le brouhaha irrégulier des ois…
Enter the chilly no-man’s land of… Five o’clock in the morning, the n… Where the waking head rubbishes ou… Of sulfurous dreamscapes and obscu… Which seemed, when dreamed, to mea…
In sunless air, under pines Green to the point of blackness, s… Founding father set these lobed, w… To loom in the leaf—filtered gloom Black as the charred knuckle—bones
That lofty monarch, Monarch Mind, Blue-blooded in coarse country rei… Though he bedded in ermine, gorged… Pure Philosophy his love engrosse… While subjects hungered, empty-pur…
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…
First, are you our sort of a perso… Do you wear A glass eye, false teeth or a crut… A brace or a hook, Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,
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…
Love set you going like a fat gold… The midwife slapped your footsoles… Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your a… In a drafty museum, your nakedness
A squeal of brakes. Or is it a birth cry? And here we are, hung out over the… Uncle, pants factory Fatso, milli… And you out cold beside me in your…
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