#AmericanWriters
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
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
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
