(1923)
#AmericanWriters
If a man can say of his life or any moment of his life, There is nothing more to be desired! his st… becomes like that told in the famo… double sonnet—but without the
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
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,
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
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth—nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking thefield by force; the grass
beauty is a shell from the sea where she rules triumphant till love has had its way with her scallops and
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…