(1916)
#AmericanWriters
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
THERE is a bird in the poplars— It is the sun! The leaves are little yellow fish Swimming in the river; The bird skims above them—
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky