#AmericanWriters
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
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...
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
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
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
Among of green stiff old