#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
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…
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…
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
Fools have big wombs. For the rest?'here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter...
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
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,
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
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…
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last