#AmericanWriters
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
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!
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
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
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers
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…
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
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…