#AmericanWriters
You say love is this, love is that… Poplar tassels, willow tendrils the wind and the rain comb, tinkle and drip, tinkle and drip— branches drifting apart. Hagh!
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
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 coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among