#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for