#AmericanWriters
Where does Cinderella sleep? By far-off day-dream river. A secret place her burning Prince Decks, while his heart-strings qui… Homesick for our cinder world,
’Tis a moonlight night in the spring of the year.” In Which, contrary to Artistic Custom, the moral of the piece is placed before the reader. (From the first Khandaka of the M...
This poem is intended as a description of a sort of Blashfield mural painting on the sky. To be sung to the tune of Yankee Doodle, yet in a slower, more orotund fashion. It is presum...
We find your soft Utopias as whit… As new-cut bread, and dull as life… O, scribes who dare forget how wil… How human breasts adore alarum bel… You house us in a hive of prigs an…
Though better men may fear that tr… I meet you, lady, on the Judgment… With golden hope my spirit still a… Our God who made you all so fair… Is three times gentle, and before…
This is the sin against the Holy… To speak of bloody power as right… And call on God to guard each vil… And for such chiefs, turn men to w… To go forth killing in White Merc…
This section is a Christmas tree: Loaded with pretty toys for you. Behold the blocks, the Noah’s ark… The popguns painted red and blue. No solemn pine-cone forest-fruit,
WRITTEN FOR LORADO… To be given in the manner of th… Hawk of the Rocks, Yours is our cause to-day. Watching your foes
The foolish queen of fairyland From her milk-white throne in a li… Gave command to her cricket-band To play for her when the dew-drops… But the cold dew spoiled their ins…
The moon’s a holy owl-queen. She keeps them in a jar Under her arm till evening, Then sallies forth to war. She pours the owls upon us.
Romance was always young. You come today Just eight years old With marvellous dark hair. Younger than Dante found you
I. THEIR BASIC SAVAGER… Fat black bucks in a wine-barrel r… Barrel-house kings, with feet unst… Sagged and reeled and pounded on t… A deep rolling bass.
I saw wild domes and bowers And smoking incense towers And mad exotic flowers In Illinois. Where ragged ditches ran
A BROADSIDE DISTRI… Censers are swinging, Over the town; Censers are swinging, Look overhead!
‘There’s machinery in the butterfl… There’s a mainspring to the bee; There’s hydraulics to a daisy, And contraptions to a tree. ‘If we could see the birdie