#AmericanWriters
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
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.
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—
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…
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…