#AmericanWriters
contend in a sea which the land pa… shielding them from the too—heavy… of an ungoverned ocean which when… tortures the biggest hulls, the be… to pit against its beatings, and s…
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 ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
Among of green stiff old
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
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 Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
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—