#AmericanWriters
I, one who never speaks, Listened days in summer trees, Each day a rustling leaf. Then, in time, my unbelief Grew like my running—
Where am I now? And what Am I to say portends? Death is but death, and not The most obtuse of ends. No matter how one leans
The grandeur of deep afternoons, The pomp of haze on marble hills, Where every white-walled villa swo… Through violence that heat fulfill… Pass tirelessly and more alone
Snake River Country I now remembered slowly how I cam… I, sometime living, sometime with… Creeping by iron ways across the b… Wastes of Wyoming, turning in des…
The spring has darkened with activ… The future gathers in vine, bush,… Persimmon, walnut, loquat, fig, an… Degrees and kinds of color, taste,… These will advance in their due se…
Amid the iris and the rose, The honeysuckle and the bay, The wild earth for a moment goes In dust or weed another way. Small though its corner be, the we…
I was the patriarch of the shining… Of the blond summer and metallic g… Men vanished at the motion of my h… And when I beckoned they would co… The earth grew dense with grain at…
Who knows Where my sight goes, What your sight shows— Where the peachtree blows? The frogs sing
Beyond the steady rock the steady… In movement more immovable than st… Gathers and washes and is gone. I… A slow obscure metonymy of motion, Crumbling the inner barriers of th…
You would extend the mind beyond t… Furious, bending, suffering in thi… And unpoetic dicta; you have been Forced by hypothesis to fiercer fa… As metal singing hard, with firmne…
I could tell Of silence where One ran before Himself and fell Into silence
Reptilian green the wrinkled throa… Green as a bough of yew the beard; He bent his head, and so I smote; Then for a thought my vision clear… The head dropped clean; he rose an…
From the high terrace porch I wat… No light appears, though dark has… Sunk from the cold and monstrous s… Lie naked but not light. The dark… Down the remoter gulleys; pooled,…
Immeasurable haze: The desert valley spreads Up golden river-beds As if in other days. Trees rise and thin away,
The calloused grass lies hard Against the cracking plain: Life is a grayish stain; The salt-marsh hems my yard. Dry dikes rise hill on hill;