#AmericanWriters
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
Fools have big wombs. For the rest?'here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter...
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
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…
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
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