#AmericanWriters
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
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 ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
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...
The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang