#Americans
Dear Emily, my tears would burn y… But for the fire-dry line that mak… Burning my eyes, my fingers, while… Singly the words that crease my he… If I could make some tortured pil…
Beyond the steady rock the steady… In movement more immovable than st… Gathers and washes and is gone. I… A slow obscure metonymy of motion, Crumbling the inner barriers of th…
Incarnate for our marriage you app… Flesh living in the spirit and end… By minor graces and slow, sensual… Through every nerve we made our sp… We fed our minds on every mortal t…
My mother Foresaw deaths And walked among Chrysanthemums, Winecolored,
From the high terrace porch I wat… No light appears, though dark has… Sunk from the cold and monstrous s… Lie naked but not light. The dark… Down the remoter gulleys; pooled,…
On the desert, between pale mounta… Far whispers creeping through an a… Coyote, on delicate mocking feet, Hovers down the canyon, among the… His voice running wild in the wind…
Far out of sight forever stands th… Bounding the land with pale tranqu… When a small child, I watched it… At thirty miles or more. The visi… Lies in the eye, soft blue and far…
You would extend the mind beyond t… Furious, bending, suffering in thi… And unpoetic dicta; you have been Forced by hypothesis to fiercer fa… As metal singing hard, with firmne…
Where am I now? And what Am I to say portends? Death is but death, and not The most obtuse of ends. No matter how one leans
I was the patriarch of the shining… Of the blond summer and metallic g… Men vanished at the motion of my h… And when I beckoned they would co… The earth grew dense with grain at…
Reptilian green the wrinkled throa… Green as a bough of yew the beard; He bent his head, and so I smote; Then for a thought my vision clear… The head dropped clean; he rose an…
I could tell Of silence where One ran before Himself and fell Into silence
God spoke once in the dark: dead s… in the dead silence. I turned in my sleep. I slept and sank away. Then breath by breath I rose
The night was faint and sheer; Immobile, road and dune. Then, for a moment, clear, A plane moved past the moon. O spirit cool and frail,
Who knows Where my sight goes, What your sight shows— Where the peachtree blows? The frogs sing
