#AmericanWriters
This last continent Still to be discovered. My hand is dreaming, is building Its ship. For crew it takes A pack of bones, for food
I liked my little hole, Its window facing a brick wall. Next door there was a piano. A few evenings a month a crippled old man came to play
A New Version: 1980 What is that little black thing I… in the white? Walt Whitman One
The brightly-painted horse Had a boy’s face, And four small wheels Under his feet, Plus a long string
O crows circling over my head and… I admit to being, at times, Suddenly, and without the slightes… Exceedingly happy. On a morning otherwise sunless,
One shows me how to lie down in a… Another how to slip my hand under… Another how to kiss with a mouth f… Another how to catch fireflies in… Here is a stable with a single bla…
Boss of all bosses of the universe… Mr. know-it-all, wheeler-dealer, w… And whatever else you’re good at. Go ahead, shuffle your zeros tonig… Dip in ink the comets’ tails.
Where it says snow read teeth-marks of a virgin Where it says knife read you passed through my bones like a police-whistle
There was a melon fresh from the g… So ripe the knife slurped As it cut it into six slices. The children were going back to sc… Their mother, passing out paper pl…
Father studied theology through th… And this was exam time. Mother knitted. I sat quietly wit… Full of pictures. Night fell. My hands grew cold touching the fa…
In my great grandmother’s time, All one needed was a broom To get to see places And give the geese a chase in the… •
To find clues where there are none… That’s my job now, I said to the Dictionary on my desk. The world… My window has grown illegible, And so has the clock on the wall.
The mail truck goes down the coast Carrying a single letter. At the end of a long pier The bored seagull lifts a leg now… And forgets to put it down.
Of the light in my room: Its mood swings, Dark-morning glooms, Summer ecstasies. Spider on the wall,
How much death works, No one knows what a long Day he puts in. The little Wife always alone Ironing death’s laundry.