#AmericanWriters
The night was faint and sheer; Immobile, road and dune. Then, for a moment, clear, A plane moved past the moon. O spirit cool and frail,
Dear Emily, my tears would burn y… But for the fire-dry line that mak… Burning my eyes, my fingers, while… Singly the words that crease my he… If I could make some tortured pil…
I, one who never speaks, Listened days in summer trees, Each day a rustling leaf. Then, in time, my unbelief Grew like my running—
Now every leaf, though colorless,… With disembodied and celestial lig… And drops without a movement or a… A pillar of darkness to the shifti… The lucent, thin, and alcoholic fl…
Where I walk out to meet you on the cloth of burning fields the goldfinches
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…
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…
My mother Foresaw deaths And walked among Chrysanthemums, Winecolored,
This is the terminal: the light Gives perfect vision, false and ha… The metal glitters, deep and brigh… Great planes are waiting in the ya… They are already in the night.
Achilles Holt, Stanford, 1930 Here for a few short years Strengthen affections; meet, Later, the dull arrears Of age, and be discreet.
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;
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…
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,…
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
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…