#AmericanWriters #FreeVerse
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
I feel the caress of my own finger… on my own neck as I place my colla… and think pityingly of the kind women I have known.
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
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 thefield by force; the grass
The brutal Lord of All will rip us from each other—leave the one to suffer here alone. No need belief in god or hell to postulate that much. The dance: hands touching, leaves touch...
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.
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…