#AmericanWriters
I WILL keep you and bring hands… I will run a spear in you for a gr… I will stab you between the ribs o…
Under the open sun and the yellow gloaming embers. They speak to me. I can not tell you what they say. Yesterday and to-morrow cross and mix on the skyline The two are lost in a purple ...
THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs On the night sky hair of the women… And the long light-fingered men Spoke to the dark-haired women, ‘Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelie…
LONG ago I learned how to sleep, In an old apple orchard where the… In a wind-gaunt orchard where the… In a passel of trees where the bra… I slept with my head in an elbow o…
‘YOU ****,' he flung at her. It was more than a hundred times He had thrown it into her face And by this time it meant nothing… She said to herself upstairs sweep…
EMPTY battlefields keep their ph… Grass crawls over old gun wheels And a nodding Canada thistle flin… Into the summer’s southwest wind, Wrapping a root in the rust of a b…
YOU came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river. And I said, you remember,
THERE was a late autumn cricket, And two smoldering mountain sunset… Under the valley roads of her eyes… There was a late autumn cricket, A hangover of summer song,
MEMORY of you is . . . a blue s… I cannot remember the name of it. Alongside a bold dripping poppy is… And they cover you.
She sits in the dust at the walls And makes cigars, Bending at the bench With fingers wage-anxious, Changing her sweat for the day’s p…
HERE is a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on, whether a funeral or a picnic crowd passes. A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broo...
THE young child, Christ, is stra… And asks questions of the old men,… Found under running water for all… And found under shadows thrown on… By tall trees looking downward, ol…
THE working girls in the morning… long lines of them afoot amid the… and factories, thousands with litt… lunches wrapped in newspapers unde… Each morning as I move through th…
I SHALL never forget you, Broad… Your golden and calling lights. I’ll remember you long, Tall-walled river of rush and play… Hearts that know you hate you
A STORM of white petals, Buds throwing open baby fists Into hands of broad flowers. Red roses running upward, Clambering to the clutches of life