#AmericanWriters #Couplet #FreeVerse
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
Among of green stiff old
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
Even in the time when as yet I had no certain knowledge of her She sprang from the nest, a young… Whose first flight circled the for… I know now how then she showed me
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!
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves