#Americans #PulitzerPrice #XIXCentury #XXCentury
YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock w… Those grappling hooks, those wheel… The dome and the wings of you, ***… The red roof and the door of you, I know where your songs came from.
STROLLING along By the teeming docks, I watch the ships put out. Black ships that heave and lunge And move like mastodons
DOWN between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock. The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble should…
A LONE gray bird, Dim-dipping, far-flying, Alone in the shadows and grandeurs… Of night and the sea And the stars and storms.
FLAT lands on the end of town where real estate men are crying new subdivisions, The sunsets pour blood and fire over you hundreds and hundreds of nights, flat lands—blood and fire of...
DO you know how the dream looms?… Summer when the lungs of the earth… And another long breath for the si… So I shall look for you in the li… In the listening tops of the hicko…
OUT of the fire Came a man sunken To less than cinders, A tea-cup of ashes or so. And I,
I AM the undertow Washing tides of power Battering the pillars Under your things of high law. I am a sleepless
EMILY DICKINSON: You gave us the bumble bee who has… The everlasting traveler among the… And how God plays around a back y… STEVIE CRANE:
Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…
FLING your red scarf faster and… It is summer and the sun loves a m… masses of green. Your red scarf flashes across them… The silk and flare of it is a grea…
YOU came from the Aztecs With a copper on your fore-arms Tawnier than a sunset Saying good-by to an even river. And I said, you remember,
SHAKE back your hair, O red-hea… Let go your laughter and keep your… Somewhere is a man looking for a r… Around and around go ten thousand… I have seen them hunting, hunting.
WONDER as of old things Fresh and fair come back Hangs over pasture and road. Lush in the lowland grasses rise And upland beckons to upland.
HERE is a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on, whether a funeral or a picnic crowd passes. A tall one I know at the end of a hallway broo...
