#AmericanWriters
It is a chilly god, a god of shade… Rises to the glass from his black… At the window, those unborn, those… Assemble with the frail paleness o… An envious phosphorescence in thei…
They called the place Lookout Far… Back then, the sun Didn’t go down in such a hurry. H… Lit things, that lamp of the Poss… Wet yet
He was the bullman earlierm King of the dish, my lucky animal. Breathing was easy in his airy hol… The sun sat in his armpit. Nothing went moldy. The little in…
You bring me good news from the cl… Whipping off your silk scarf, exhi… Mummy—cloths, smiling: I’m all ri… When I was nine, a lime—green ane… Fed me banana gas through a frog—m…
Stars are dropping thick as stones… Picket of trees whose silhouette i… Than the dark of the sky because i… The woods are a well. The stars d… They seem large, yet they drop, an…
On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feat… I do not expect a miracle Or an accident
The smile of iceboxes annihilates… Such blue currents in the veins of… I hear her great heart purr. From her lips ampersands and perce… Exit like kisses.
My father kept a vaulted conch By two bronze bookends of ships in… And as I listened its cold teeth… With voices of that ambiguous sea Old Böcklin missed, who held a sh…
deep in liquid turquoise slivers of dilute light quiver in thin streaks of bright tinfoil
Old goatherds swear how all night… The warning whirr and burring of t… Who wakes with darkness and till d… Vampiring dry of milk each great g… Moon full, moon dark, the chary da…
Day of mist: day of tarnish with hands unserviceable, I wait for the milk van the one—eared cat
Through fen and farmland walking With my own country love I saw slow flocked cows move White hulks on their day’s cruisin… Sweet grass sprang for their grazi…
In Alicante they bowl the barrels Bumblingly over the nubs of the co… Past the yellow—paella eateries, Below the ramshackle back—alley ba… While the cocks and hens
With white frost gone And all green dreams not worth muc… After a lean day’s work Time comes round for that foul slu… Mere bruit of her takes our street
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…