#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a worthy...
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
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...
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
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.