#AmericanWriters
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
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…
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
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…
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…