#AmericanWriters
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 ...
I ASKED the professors who teac… me what is happiness. And I went to famous executives w… thousands of men. They all shook their heads and gav…
THE RIVER is gold under a suns… It is a molten gold someone pours… A woman mixing a wedding cake of b… Knows what the sunset is pouring o… The river twists in a letter S.
IN the morning, a Sunday morning, shadows of sea and adumbrants of rock in her eyes... horseback in leather boots and leather gauntlets by the sea. In the evening, a Sunday evening, a r...
JIMMY WIMBLETON listened a… Ditches along prairie roads of No… Filled the arch of night with youn… Infinite mathematical metronomic c… Rose and sang, rose in a choir of…
OUT of white lips a question: Sh… Out of white lips:—Shall they hav… Out of white lips:—Is the red in… Out of white lips a white pain mur…
YOUR eyes and the valley are mem… Your eyes fire and the valley a bo… It was here a moonrise crept over… It was here we turned the coffee c… And your eyes and the moon swept t…
AMONG the red guns, In the hearts of soldiers Running free blood In the long, long campaign: Dreams go on.
BETWEEN two hills The old town stands. The houses loom And the roofs and trees And the dusk and the dark,
COVER me over In dusk and dust and dreams. Cover me over And leave me alone. Cover me over,
You have spoken the answer. A child searches far sometimes Into the red dust On a dark rose leaf And so you have gone far
Here is dust remembers it was a ro… one time and lay in a woman’s hair… Here is dust remembers it was a wo… one time and in her hair lay a ros… Oh things one time dust, what else…
I have seen The old gods go And the new gods come. Day by day And year by year
THIS handful of grass, brown, says little. This quarter mile field of it, waving seeds ripening in the sun, is a lake of luminous firefly lavender. Prairie roses, two of them, climb dow...
or a man out of the ashes of false dawn muttering 'hot-dog’ to the night watchmen: Is there a spieler who has spoken the word or taken the number of night’s nothings? am I the spieler? ...