#AmericanWriters
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,
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
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a w...
Pour the wine bridegroom where before you the bride is enthroned her hair loose at her temples a head of ripe wheat is on
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
Among of green stiff old
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees