#AmericanWriters #Ekphrasis
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth ——nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides