#AmericanWriters
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
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
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
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
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…
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
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.