#Americans #Suicide #Women #XXCentury
Summer grows old, cold—blooded mot… The insects are scant, skinny. In these palustral homes we only Croak and wither. Mornings dissipate in somnolence.
They are the last romantics, these… Upside—down hearts of light tippin… And the fingers, taken in by their… Grown milky, almost clear, like th… It is touching, the way they’ll ig…
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…
Mayday: two came to field in such… `A daisied mead’, each said to eac… So were they one; so sought they c… Across barbed stile, through flock… `No pitchforked farmer, please,' s…
The word of a snail on the plate o… It is not mine. Do not accept it. Acetic acid in a sealed tin? Do not accept it. It is not genui… A ring of gold with the sun in it?
Two virtues ride, by stallion, by… To grind our knives and scissors: Lantern-jawed Reason, squat Commo… One courting doctors of all sorts, One, housewives and shopkeepers.
Through fen and farmland walking With my own country love I saw slow flocked cows move White hulks on their day’s cruisin… Sweet grass sprang for their grazi…
Soliloquy Of The Solipsist I? I walk alone; The midnight street Spins itself from under my feet;
We came over the moor—top Through air streaming and green—li… Stone farms foundering in it, Valleys of grass altering In a light neither dawn
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…
No lame excuses can gloss over Barge—tar clotted at the tide—line… I should have known better. Fifteen years between me and the b… Profited memory, but did away with…
Pure? What does it mean? The tongues of hell Are dull, dull as the triple Tongues of dull, fat Cerebus Who wheezes at the gate. Incapabl…
This was the land’s end: the last… Cramped on nothing. Black Admonitory cliffs, and the sea exp… With no bottom, or anything on the… Whitened by the faces of the drown…
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…
It is ten years, now, since we row… The sun flamed straight down that… That summer we wore black glasses… We were always crying, in our spar… In the two, huge, white, handsome…