#AmericanWriters
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...
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
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.
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband’s… I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb
WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red
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…
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…