#AmericanWriters
HATS, where do you belong? what is under you? On the rim of a skyscraper’s foreh… I looked down and saw: hats: fifty… Swarming with a noise of bees and…
ON the lips of the child Janet fl… It is a thin spiral of blue smoke, A morning campfire at a mountain l… On the lips of the child Janet, Wisps of haze on ten miles of corn…
STYLE—go ahead talking about sty… You can tell where a man gets his… as you can tell where Pavlowa got… or Ty Cobb his batting eye. Go on talking.
IN the cool of the night time The clocks pick off the points And the mainsprings loosen. They will need winding. One of these days…
THE LAW says you and I belong t… The law says you are mine and I a… And there are a million miles of w… Between the chair where you sit an… The law says two strangers shall e…
Child of the Aztec gods, how long must we listen here, how long before we go? The dust is deep on the lintels. The dust is dark on the doors.
The mare Alix breaks the world’s trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an Illinois race track on a summer afternoon. I see the timekeepers put their heads to...
ARMOUR AVENUE was the name o… Scrap iron, rags and bottles fill… The segregated district, the Tend…
I AM singing to you Soft as a man with a dead child sp… Hard as a man in handcuffs, Held where he cannot move: Under the sun
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
WHAT do we see here in the sand… moon alone with our thoughts, Bill… Alone with our dreams, Bill, soft… scarves around their heads dancing… Alone with a picture and a picture…
I GIVE the undertakers permissio… to the graveyard and to lay away a… feet, the hands, all: I know there… over they can not put away. Let the nanny goats and the billy…
ELSIE FLIMMERWON, you got a… The houses go wild when you finish… It is long ago, Elsie Flimmerwon,… It is long ago, Elsie, and now th… Then you were a little thing in ch…
FLAT lands on the end of town where real estate men are crying new subdivisions, The sunsets pour blood and fire over you hundreds and hundreds of nights, flat lands—blood and fire of...
‘I KNEW a real man once,’ says… Did a man touch his lips to Agath… Agatha, far past forty in a splend…