#AmericanWriters
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…
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…
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
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.
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island