#AmericanWriters
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
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...
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
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...
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail