#AmericanWriters
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
Ecstatic bird songs pound the hollow vastness of the sky with metallic clinkings— beating color up into it at a far edge,—beating it, beating…
Winter is long in this climate and spring—a matter of a few days only,—a flower or two picked from mud or from among wet leaves or at best against treacherous
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
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…