#AmericanWriters
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.
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
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.
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor