#AmericanWriters
i like to think that on the flower you gave me when we loved the far-
and this day it was Spring….us drew lewdly the murmurous minute c… smelloftheworld. We intricately alive,cleaving the luminous stamme… (eagerly just not each other touch…
III Spring is like a perhaps hand (which comes carefully out of Nowhere)arranging a window, into which people look(w…
what if a much of a which of a win… gives the truth to summer’s lie; bloodies with dizzying leaves the… and yanks immortal stars awry? Blow king to beggar and queen to s…
little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower who found you in the green forest
hush) noones are coming out in the gloam ing together are
after five times the poem of thy remembrance surprises with refrain of unreasoning summer
a connotation of infinity sharpens the temporal splendor of… when souls which have forgot frivo… in lowliness,noting the fatal flig… of worlds whereto this earth’s a h…
a wind has blown the rain away and… the sky away and all the leaves aw… and the trees stand. I think i to… autumn too long (and what have y…
Thou aged unreluctant earth who do… with quivering continual thighs in… the thrilling rain the slender par… to toy with thy extraordinary lust… (the sinuous rain which rising fro…
yours is the music for no instrume… yours the preposterous colour unbe… —mine the unbought contemptuous in… till this our felsh merely shall b… by speaking flower
Buffalo Bill 's defunct who used to ride a watersmooth—silver stallion
Thy fingers make early flowers of all things. thy hair mostly the hours love: a smoothness which sings, saying
hist whist little ghostthings tip-toe twinkle-toe little twitchy
the mind is its own beautiful pris… Mind looked long at the sticky moo… opening in dusk her new wings then decently hanged himself,one a… The last thing he saw was you