#AmericanWriters
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
This is a schoolyard crowded with children of all ages near a village on a small stream
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge