#Activities #AmericanWriters #MoneyAndEconomics #SocialCommentaries
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses
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.
At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband’s… I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
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
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am