A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which

Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…

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.

Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

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...

The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow

Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.

Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail

You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich

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 murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me

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…

All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among