#AmericanWriters
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
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…
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
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...
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…
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge