#Activities #AmericanWriters #MoneyAndEconomics #SocialCommentaries
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,