#AmericanWriters
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
By constantly tormenting them with reminders of the lice in their children’s hair, the School Physician first brought their hatred down on him.
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
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,…
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.