#AmericanWriters
Her terrace was the sand And the palms and the twilight. She made of the motions of her wri… The grandiose gestures Of her thought.
In my room, the world is beyond my… But when I walk I see that it con… hills and a cloud. From my balcony, I survey the yel… Reading where I have written,
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…
The difficulty to think at the end… When the shapeless shadow covers t… And nothing is left except light o… There was the cat slopping its mil… Fat cat, red tongue, green mind, w…
Go on, high ship, since now, upon… The snake has left its skin upon t… Key West sank downward under mass… And silvers and greens spread over… Is at the mast-head and the past i…
The trade-wind jingles the rings i… by the docks on Indian River. It is the same jingle of the water… banks of the palmettoes. It is the same jingle of the red-b…
As the immense dew of Florida Brings forth The big-finned palm And green vine angering for life, As the immense dew of Florida
Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds… Let the wenches dawdle in such dre… As they are used to wear, and let…
At night, by the fire, The colors of the bushes And of the fallen leaves, Repeating themselves, Turned in the room,
Twenty men crossing a bridge, Into a village, Are twenty men crossing twenty bri… Into twenty villages, Or one man
Sister and mother and diviner love… And of the sisterhood of the livin… Most near, most clear, and of the… And of the fragrant mothers the mo… And queen, and of diviner love the…
Complacencies of the peignoir, and… Coffee and oranges in a sunny chai… And the green freedom of a cockato… Upon a rug mingle to dissipate The holy hush of ancient sacrifice…
Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. I was of three minds, Like a tree
q|And for what, except for you, do… Do I press the extremest book of… Close to me, hidden in me day and… In the uncertain light of single,… Equal in living changingness to th…
The light is like a spider. It crawls over the water. It crawls over the edges of the sn… It crawls under your eyelids And spreads its webs there—