#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
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.
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
It is still warm enough to slip from the weeds into the lake’s edge, your clothes blushing in the grass and three small boys grinning behind the derelict hearth’s side. But summer...
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…