Cornhuskers. 1918.
#AmericanWriters
On Forty-first Street near Eighth Avenue a frame house wobbles. If houses went on crutches this house would be
BECAUSE I have called to you as the flame flamingo calls, or the want of a spotted hawk is called– because in the dusk
I LOVE your faces I saw the man… I drank your milk and filled my mo… With your home talk, slept in your… And was one of you. But a fire burns in my heart.
THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs … near the shingle mill … winter morning. Falling of a dry leaf might be heard … circular steel tears through a log. Slope of woodland … ...
LEGS hold a torso away from the… And a regular high poem of legs is… Powers of bone and cord raise a be… Out of ooze and over the loam wher… And arms have a chance to hammer a…
I could love you as dry roots love rain. I could hold you as branches in the wind brandish petals.
SOMEWHERE you and I remember… Stairways from the sea and our hea… Ladders of dust and mud and our ha… Rags of drenching mist and our han… You and I that snickered in the c…
I WANTED a man’s face looking i… of life With something proud on his face,… of the jaws, No gulp of the throat leaves the f…
MOMUS is the name men give your… The brag of its tone, like a long… Finding a way mid mist on a shorel… Where gray rocks let the salt wate… Against horizons purple, silent.
I SAW a telegram handed a two hundred pound man at a desk. And the little scrap of paper charged the air like a set of crystals in a chemist’s tube to a whispering pinch of salt. Cross ...
I shall be eaten by gray creepers in a bunkhouse where no runners of the sun come and no dogs live. And yet-of all 'and yets’ this is the bronze strongest– I shall keep one thing better...
I HAVE ransacked the encyclopedi… And slid my fingers among topics a… Looking for you. And the answer comes slow. There seems to be no answer.
A MAN was crucified. He came to… was accused, and nailed to a cross… Laughed at the crowd. “The nails… said, “You are cheap. In my count… we use silver nails. . .” So he we…
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 dago shovelman sits by the ra… Eating a noon meal of bread and bo… A train whirls by, and men and wom… Alive with red roses and yellow jo… Eat steaks running with brown grav…