#AmericanWriters
What syllable are you seeking, Vocalissimus, In the distances of sleep? Speak it.
Light the first light of evening,… In which we rest and, for small re… The world imagined is the ultimate… This is, therefore, the intensest… It is in that thought that we coll…
As the immense dew of Florida Brings forth The big-finned palm And green vine angering for life, As the immense dew of Florida
Among the more irritating minor id… Of Mr. Homburg during his visits… To Concord, at the edge of things… To think away the grass, the trees… Not to transform them into other t…
On her side, reclining on her elbo… This mechanism, this apparition, Suppose we call it Projection A. She floats in air at the level of The eye, completely anonymous,
“Mother of heaven, regina of the c… O sceptre of the sun, crown of the… There is not nothing, no, no, neve… Like the clashed edges of two word… And so I mocked her in magnificen…
Twenty men crossing a bridge, Into a village, Are twenty men crossing twenty bri… Into twenty villages, Or one man
Lulu sang of barbarians before the… Of gobs, who called her orchidean, Sniffed her and slapped heavy hand… Upon her. She made the eunuchs ululate.
One chemical afternoon in mid-autu… When the grand mechanics of earth… Even the leaves of the locust were… He walked with his year-old boy on… The sun shone and the dog barked a…
Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caf… Of tan with henna hackles, halt! Damned universal cock, as if the s… Was blackamoor to bear your blazin… Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the per…
I had as lief be embraced by the p… As to get no more from the moonlig… Than your moist hand. Be the voice of the night and Flo… Use dasky words and dusky images.
Napoleon shifted Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,
Opusculum paedagogum. The pears are not viols, Nudes or bottles. They resemble nothing else. II
You dweller in the dark cabin, To whom the watermelon is always p… Whose garden is wind and moon, Of the two dreams, night and day, What lover, what dreamer, would ch…