#AmericanWriters
I walked in a desert. And I cried, “Ah, God, take me from this place… A voice said, “It is no desert.” I cried, “Well, But—
There came whisperings in the wind… “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Little voices called in the darkne… “Good-bye! Good-bye!” Then I stretched forth my arms.
In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it.
I stood upon a highway, And, behold, there came Many strange peddlers. To me each one made gestures, Holding forth little images, sayin…
The chatter of a death-demon from… Blood– blood and torn grass – Had marked the rise of his agony - This lone hunter. The grey-green woods impassive
I stood upon a high place, And saw, below, many devils Running, leaping, and carousing in sin. One looked up, grinning,
AH, God, the way your little fing… As you thrust a bare arm backward And made play with your hair And a comb a silly gilt comb Ah, God—that I should suffer
Tradition, thou art for suckling c… Thou art the enlivening milk for b… But no meat for men is in thee. Then— But, alas, we all are babes.
TELL me why, behind thee, I see always the shadow of another… Is it real Or is this the thrice-damned memor… Plague on him if he be dead
A man toiled on a burning road, Never resting. Once he saw a fat, stupid ass Grinning at him from a green place… The man cried out in rage,
I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man. “It is futile,” I said,
A man said to the universe: “Sir I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me A sense of obligation.”
Supposing that I should have the… To let a red sword of virtue Plunge into my heart, Letting to the weeds of the ground My sinful blood,
The successful man has thrust hims… Through the water of the years, Reeking wet with mistakes— Bloody mistakes; Slimed with victories over the les…
In the night Grey heavy clouds muffled the vall… And the peaks looked toward God a… “O Master that movest the wind wi… Humble, idle, futile peaks are we.