#AmericanWriters
I never go to church to pray Among the crowded pews Nor kneel before a crucifix To hail the king of Jews I never say a prayer
Mad day flags crackling in the dawn the sharp intensity of drink dentelleries thrown over the mill fire sun and candlelight and at midnight I squeeze the juice of the silver fruit of th...
What chance have snakes upon an as… When giant limousines go gliding b… Of courtesans resolved to gratify The lust of lovers seeking new abo… I do not envy the unfriended toad
Moon of leaves, Moon of the falling leaves, To you I bring the slippers of the sun. That you may dance upon the
Proud panoply of fans and frankinc… Gold blare of trumpets, flowered r… Unnumbered symbols of magnificence… To lead Salome through the palace… Where loud the prophet of the Lor…
You’ve slipped from out your eveni… Before the polished lookingglass,… Unclasping frail corsage, while yo… Your blushing charms. Your waywar… Intrigue, as slowly you remove the…
Thorn beneath the milk-white Crowned with In the flesh Thorns beneath the Rose without
An Arab beats upon a kettle drum, And tuneless is the wailing of the… As on the sands a slavegirl execut… Her dance of wantonwild delirium; Her body swaying like a pendulum
I would you were the hollow ship fashioned to bear the cargo of my… the unrelenting glove hurled in defiance at our blackest… or that great banner mad unfurled
X., peasant, aged thirty-four and a half; Sun-Worshipper. Father and Mother were hard drinkers. Since his fifth year patient has had epileptic convulsions-i.e. he falls down unconscious...
In scarlet tunic rare a concubine With subtle limbs, and breasts lai… For me to kiss. Soft eyes that sa… A nubile maiden slave, intensely f… Strange frightened rose. A pagan…
they have walked through the gatew… of my eyes they have climbed the mountains of my body they have marched across the deser…
What heavens opened and blazed, What sisters virtuous, What arrows sprang to mark, The trees so terrible and dark, What years, what hopes,
I have invited our little seamstress to take her thread and needle and sew our two mouths together. I have asked the village blacksmith to forge golden chains to tie our ankles together...
Raymonde If it were not for you I would not be glad today And I would continue to dream Of lovely ladies in lands long ago