#AmericanWriters
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
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
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
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…
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
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
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,