#AmericanWriters
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
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.
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire