#AmericanWriters
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .
Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet
Fools have big wombs. For the rest?'here is pennyroyal if one knows to use it. But time is only another liar, so go along the wall a little further: if blackberries prove bitter...
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem— save that it’s green and wooden— I come, my sweet,
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
There were some dirty plates and a glass of milk beside her on a small table near the rank, disheveled bed— Wrinkled and nearly blind
Why do I write today? The beauty of the terrible faces of our nonentites stirs me to it:
At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband’s… I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…