#AmericanWriters
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 crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
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
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire