Cornhuskers. 1918.
#AmericanWriters
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 … ...
FROM the time of the early radis… To the time of the standing corn Sleepy Henry Hackerman hoes. There are laws in the village agai… The law says a weed is wrong and s…
I could love you as dry roots love rain. I could hold you as branches in the wind brandish petals.
STRONG rocks hold up the riksdag bridge... always strong river waters shoving their shoulders against them... In the riksdag to-night three hundred men are talking to each other about m...
GUNS on the battle lines have po… between Brussels and Paris. And, William Morris, when I read… the great arches and naves and lit… corners of the Churches of Northe…
The little girl saw her first troo… ‘What are those?’ ‘Soldiers.’ ‘What are soldiers?’ ‘They are for war. They fight and…
TWO Swede families live downstairs and an Irish policeman upstairs, and an old soldier, Uncle Joe. Two Swede boys go upstairs and see Joe. His wife is dead, his only son is dead, and ...
THE KNEES of this proud woman are bone. The elbows of this proud woman
I waited today for a freight train… Cattle cars with steers butting th… bars, went by. And a half a dozen hoboes stood on… cars.
IF we were such and so, the same… maybe we too would be slingers and… tumbling half over in the water mi… tumbling half over at the horse he… tumbling our purple numbers.
I AM an ancient reluctant conscri… On the soup wagons of Xerxes I wa… On the march of Miltiades’ phalan… I had a bristling gleaming spear-h… Red-headed Cæsar picked me for a…
THEY put up big wooden gods. Then they burned the big wooden go… And put up brass gods and Changing their minds suddenly Knocked down the brass gods and pu…
DREAMS in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day’s close going bac… To the gray things, the dark thing… The far, deep things of dreamland.
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…
ABOWSKY’S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty three balls. When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud isolation: A family bible with hasps ...