#AmericanWriters
WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin … in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall S...
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
This flower is repeated out of old winds, out of old times. The wind repeats these, it must have these, over and
FIVE circus clowns dying this year, morning newspapers told their lives, how each one horizontal in a last gesture of hands arranged by an undertaker, shook thousands into convulsions o...
I AM a hoodlum, you are a hoodlum… I hate and kill better men than I… In the ends of my fingers the itch… This is the hate my father gave me… Let us go on, brother hoodlums, le…
She had a box with a million red bandanas for hi… She gave them to him one by one or by thousands, saying then she had not enough for…
BY day... tireless smokestacks...… By night... all lit up... fire-gol…
REMEMBRANCE for a great man i… The newsies are pitching pennies. And on the copper disk is the man’… Dead lover of boys, what do you as…
SEVEN days all fog, all mist, an… I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in… Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moo… Then an afternoon in fjords, low-l… A night harbor, blue dusk mountain…
IN a jeweler’s shop I saw a man b… out thin sheets of gold. I heard a… laugh many years ago. Under a peach tree I saw petals s… .. torn strips of a bride’s dress.…
TAKE a hold now On the silver handles here, Six silver handles, One for each of his old pals. Take hold
Chatter of birds two by two raises… showing the russet of old stones r… And the long willows drowse on the… joined songs of day-end, feathery… It is too much for the long willow…
AMONG the shadows where two stre… A woman lurks in the dark and wait… To move on when a policeman heaves… Smiling a broken smile from a face Painted over haggard bones and des…
YOU came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river. And I said, you remember,
THE BRASS medallion profile of… It is not jingling with loose chan… It is not stuck up in a show place… I carry it in a special secret poc… And it is under my pillow at night…