#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
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 worthy...
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
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.
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.