#AmericanWriters
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
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...
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
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...
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
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
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a w...
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!