#AmericanWriters
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
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.
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
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…
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich