#AmericanWriters
LET us be honest; the lady was no… married a corporation lawyer who p… a Ziegfeld chorus. Before then she never took anybody… for her silk stockings out of what…
I SHALL foot it Down the roadway in the dusk, Where shapes of hunger wander And the fugitives of pain go by. I shall foot it
WHEN the sea is everywhere from horizon to horizon .. when the salt and blue fill a circle of horizons .. I swear again how I know
THREE violins are trying their h… The piece is MacDowell’s Wild Ro… And the time of the wild rose And the leaves of the wild rose And the dew-shot eyes of the wild…
I AM the undertow Washing tides of power Battering the pillars Under your things of high law. I am a sleepless
THE SUMMER shirt sale of a downtown haberdasher is glorified in a show-window slang: everybody understands the language: red dots, yellow circles, blue anchors, and dove-brown hooks, th...
THERE’S Chamfort. He’s a sampl… Locked himself in his library with… Shot off his nose and shot out his… And this Chamfort knew how to wri… And thousands read his books on ho…
There will be a rusty gun on the w… The rifle grooves curling with fla… A spider will make a silver string… darkest, warmest corner of it. The trigger and the range-finder,…
SHAKEN, The blossoms of lilac, And shattered, The atoms of purple. Green dip the leaves,
The long beautiful night of the wi… The long night hanging down from t… Swinging, swaying, to the wind for… What is the humming, swishing thin… The rain, the wind, the swishing w…
THREE walls around the town of… They expected everything of those… Nobody in the town came out to kis… I knocked the walls down, killed t… Took away cattle and sheep, took a…
LET us go out of the fog, John,… Let us sit among the telegrams-cli… It is a fog night out and the umbr… Here the telegrams come-one king g… Let us go out in the fog, John, l…
THEY are crying salt tears Over the beautiful beloved body Of Inez Milholland, Because they are glad she lived, Because she loved open-armed,
HOW many feet ran with sunlight,… What little devils shaken of laugh… Fixed this lone red tulip, a woman… Who hurled this bomb of red caress… Love me before I die;
HOKUSAI’S portrait of himself Tells what his hat was like And his arms and legs. The only f… Are a river and a mountain And two laughing farmers.