#AmericanWriters
ARMOUR AVENUE was the name o… Scrap iron, rags and bottles fill… The segregated district, the Tend…
WHAT cry of peach blossoms let loose on the air today I heard with my face thrown in the pink-white of it all? in the red whisper of it all?
ONE man killed another. The sayi… The killer wept over the dead. Th… Why is the sun a red ball in the s… Why is the moon a tumbling chimney…
Look out how you use proud words. When you let proud words go, it is… They wear long boots, hard boots;… Look out how you use proud words.
On a mountain-side the real estate… Put up signs marking the city lots… A man whose father and mother were… Ran a goat farm half-way down the… He drove a covered wagon years ago…
Baby vamps, is it harder work than… Are the new soda parlors worse tha… Baby vamps, do you have jobs in th… In the winter at the skating rinks… Wherever figure eights are carved,…
The Balloons hang on wires in the… They spot their yellow and gold, t… Balloon face eaters sit by hundred… Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason cont… Here sit the heavy balloon face wo…
IF I should pass the tomb of Jon… I would stop there and sit for awh… Because I was swallowed one time… And came out alive after all. If I pass the burial spot of Nero
There are no handles upon a langua… Whereby men take hold of it And mark it with signs for its rem… It is a river, this language, Once in a thousand years
FACES of two eternities keep loo… One is Omar Khayam and the red st… wherein men forget yesterday and t… and remember only the voices and s… the stories, newspapers and fights…
SEVEN nations stood with their h… It was the first week in August,… I was listening, you were listenin… listening, And all of us heard a Voice murmu…
NOW that a crimson rambler begins to crawl over the house of our two lives— Now that a red curve winds across the shingles—
IN western fields of corn and nor… They talk about me, a saloon with… The soft red lights, the long curv… The leather seats and dim corners, Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cut…
I DON’T blame the kettle drums-t… And the snare drums-I know what t… And the harring booming bass drums… The howling spears of the Northwe… The lullabies of the Southwest ge…
I CANNOT tell you now; When the wind’s drive and whirl Blow me along no longer, And the wind’s a whisper at last— Maybe I’ll tell you then—