#AmericanWriters
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
Fools have big wombs. For the rest?'here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter...
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
When I am alone I am happy. The air is cool. The sky is flecked and splashed and wound with color. The crimson phalloi of the sassafras leaves
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…