#Americans #XXCentury
Setting a trotline after sundown if we went far enough away in the… sometimes up out of deep water would come a secret-headed channel… Eyes that were still eyes in the r…
Cold nights outside the taverns in… pickups and big semis lounge idlin… haunches twitch now and then in gu… their owners inside for hours, for… as they can the miles, the circlin…
Your exact errors make a music that nobody hears. Your straying feet find the great… walking alone. And you live on a world where stum…
Turn Over Your Hand Those lines on your palm, they can… for a hidden part of your life tha… those links can say—nobody’s voice can find so tiny a message as come…
The well rising without sound, the spring on a hillside, the plowshare brimming through dee… everywhere in the field— The sharp swallows in their swerve
Mine was a Midwest home—you can k… Plain black hats rode the thoughts… We sang hymns in the house; the ro… The light bulb that hung in the pa… but we could read by it the names…
Aristotle was a little man with eyes like a lizard, and he found a… down the midst of things, a smooth… much more important than the carve… on the coffins of the great.
Most mornings I get away, slip ou… the door before light, set forth o… road, letting my feet find a caden… that softly carries me on. Nobody is up—all alone my journey begins.
Anyone with quiet pace who walks a gray road in the West may hear a badger underground wher… in deep flint another time is Caught by flint and held forever,
Traveling through the dark I foun… dead on the edge of the Wilson Ri… It is usually best to roll them in… that road is narrow; to swerve mig… By glow of the tail-light I stumb…
Day after day up there beating my… with all the softness truth requir… I feel them shrug whenever I paus… they class my voice among tentativ… And they credit fact, force, batte…
Wisdom is having things right in y… and knowing why. If you do not have things right in… you will be overwhelmed: you may be heroic, but you will no…
The light by the barn that shines… pales at dawn when a little breeze… A little breeze comes breathing th… from their sleep and waking the sl… The slow windmill sings the long d…
The only relics left are those lon… spangled seconds our school clock… when you crossed the social hall and we found each other alive, by our glances never to accept our…
When we first moved here, pulled the trees in around us, curled our backs to the wind, no one had ever hit the moon—no one. Now our trees are safer than the s…
