#AmericanWriters
The brutal Lord of All will rip us from each other—leave the one to suffer here alone. No need belief in god or hell to postulate that much. The dance: hands touching, leaves touch...
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.
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
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...
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
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—