#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
Among of green stiff old
The brutal Lord of All will rip us from each other—leave the one to suffer here alone. No need belief in god or hell to postulate that much. The dance: hands touching, leaves touch...
SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
