#Americans
SHE sits in the dust at the walls And makes cigars, Bending at the bench With fingers wage-anxious, Changing her sweat for the day’s p…
TWO Swede families live downstairs and an Irish policeman upstairs, and an old soldier, Uncle Joe. Two Swede boys go upstairs and see Joe. His wife is dead, his only son is dead, and ...
THE working girls in the morning… long lines of them afoot amid the… and factories, thousands with litt… lunches wrapped in newspapers unde… Each morning as I move through th…
The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians. The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans, Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown. ...
Maybe he believes me, maybe not. Maybe I can marry him, maybe not. Maybe the wind on the prairie, The wind on the sea, maybe, Somebody, somewhere, maybe can tel…
TODAY I will let the old boat s… Where the sweep of the harbor tide… To the pulse of a far, deep-steady… And I will rest and dream and sit… Watching the world go by
I shall be eaten by gray creepers in a bunkhouse where no runners of the sun come and no dogs live. And yet-of all 'and yets’ this is the bronze strongest– I shall keep one thing better...
HUNTINGTON sleeps in a house… Huntington dreams of railroads he… Huntington dreams of ten thousand… Blithery sleeps in a house six fee… Blithery dreams of rails and ties…
BETWEEN two hills The old town stands. The houses loom And the roofs and trees And the dusk and the dark,
I WANDER down on Clinton stree… And listen to the voices of Itali… It is a cataract of coloratura And I could sleep to their musica…
IN Abraham Lincoln’s city, Where they remember his lawyer’s s… The place where they brought him Wrapped in battle flags, Wrapped in the smoke of memories
IT is something to face the sun and know you are free. To hold your head in the shafts of daylight slanting the earth And know your heart has kept a promise and the blood runs clean: To...
I AM singing to you Soft as a man with a dead child sp… Hard as a man in handcuffs, Held where he cannot move: Under the sun
Though I can whisper to you I am looking for an undertaker humming a lullaby and throwing his feet in a swift and mystic buck-and-wing, now you see it and now you don’t. Fish to swim a ...
The fog comes on little cat feet. It sits looking over harbor and city on silent haunches