#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
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…
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
Among of green stiff old
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…
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…