#AmericanWriters
Well now, hold on maybe I won’t go to sleep at all and it’ll be a beautiful white nig… or else I’ll collapse completely from nerves and be calm
515 Madison Avenue door to heaven? portal stopped realities and eternal lice… or at least the jungle of impossib… your marble is bronze and your lia…
Now when I walk around at lunchti… I have only two charms in my pocke… an old Roman coin Mike Kanemitsu… and a bolt-head that broke off a p… when I was in Madrid the others n…
Hate is only one of many responses true, hurt and hate go hand in han… but why be afraid of hate, it is o… think of filth, is it really aweso… neither is hate
Alone at night in the wet city the country’s wit is not memorable. The wind has blown
Perhaps it is to avoid some great… as in a Restoration tragedy the he… O for a long sound sleep and so fo… that one flies, soaring above the… veering upward from the pavement a…
I’m not going to cry all the time nor shall I laugh all the time, I don’t prefer one “strain” to ano… I’d have the immediacy of a bad mo… not just a sleeper, but also the b…
After the first glass of vodka you can accept just about anything of life even your own mysteriousne… you think it is nice that a box of matches is purple and brown and…
At night Chinamen jump on Asia with a thump while in our willful way we, in secret, play affectionate games and bruise
You do not always know what I am… Last night in the warm spring air… blazing my tirade against someone… interest me, it was love for you that set m…
I think you’re wonderful and so do… Just as Jackie Kennedy has a baby… You will meet a tall beautiful blo… You will take a long trip and you… You will marry the first person wh…
The Sun woke me this morning loud and clear, saying “Hey! I’ve been trying to wake you up for fifteen minutes. Don’t be so rude, you are only the second poet I’ve ever cho…
I wanted to be sure to reach you; though my ship was on the way it g… in some moorings. I am always tyin… and then deciding to depart. In st… at sunset, with the metallic coils…
The opals hiding your lids as you sleep, as you ride ponies mysteriously, spring to bloom like the blue flowers of autumn each nine o’clock. And curls
It is almost three I sit at the marble top sorting poems, miserable the little lamp glows feebly I don’t glow at all