#AmericanWriters
By the roots of my hair some god g… I sizzled in his blue volts like a… The nights snapped out of sight li… A world of bald white days in a sh… A vulturous boredom pinned me in t…
Behind him the hotdogs split and d… On the public grills, and the ochr… Gas tanks, factory stacks– that la… Of imperfections his bowels were p… Rippled and pulsed in the glassy u…
My night sweats grease his breakfa… The same placard of blue fog is wh… With the same trees and headstones… Is that all he can come up with, The rattler of keys?
Love set you going like a fat gold… The midwife slapped your footsoles… Took its place among the elements. Our voices echo, magnifying your a… In a drafty museum, your nakedness
No novice In those elaborate rituals Which allay the malice Of knotted table and crooked chair… The new woman in the ward
Since Christmas they have lived w… Guileless and clear, Oval soul—animals, Taking up half the space, Moving and rubbing on the silk
Your clear eye is the one absolute… I want to fill it with color and d… The zoo of the new Whose names you meditate —— April snowdrop, Indian pipe,
That lofty monarch, Monarch Mind, Blue-blooded in coarse country rei… Though he bedded in ermine, gorged… Pure Philosophy his love engrosse… While subjects hungered, empty-pur…
I am silver and exact. I have no… Whatever I see I swallow immediat… Just as it is, unmisted by love or… I am not cruel, only truthful— The eye of a little god, four-corn…
You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo…
All day she plays at chess with th… Favored (while suddenly the rains… Beyond the window) she lies on cus… And nibbles an occasional bonbon o… Prim, pink—breasted, feminine, she…
Outside in the street I hear A car door slam; voices coming nea… Incoherent scraps of talk And high heels clicking up the wal… The doorbell rends the noonday hea…
I’ve got a stubborn goose whose gu… Honeycombed with golden eggs, Yet won’t lay one. She, addled in her goose-wit, stru… The barnyard like those taloned ha…
Black lake, black boat, two black,… Where do the black trees go that d… Their shadows must cover Canada. A little light is filtering from t… Their leaves do not wish us to hur…
With white frost gone And all green dreams not worth muc… After a lean day’s work Time comes round for that foul slu… Mere bruit of her takes our street