#Americans #Suicide #Women #XXCentury
All right, let’s say you could tak… The way you’d crack a clock; you’d… Between steel palms of inclination… Observing the wreck of metal and r… This was a woman: her loves and st…
Mayday: two came to field in such… `A daisied mead’, each said to eac… So were they one; so sought they c… Across barbed stile, through flock… `No pitchforked farmer, please,' s…
Mother, mother, what illbred aunt Or what disfigured and unsightly Cousin did you so unwisely keep Unasked to my christening, that she Sent these ladies in her stead With heads like dar...
Mud-mattressed under the sign of t… In a clench of blood, the sleep-ta… Gibbets with her curse the moon’s… ****-bearing Jack in his crackless… Hatched with a claret hogshead to…
The nose—end that twitches, the ol… Tolerable now as moles on the face Put up with until chagrin gives pl… To a wry complaisance—— Dug in first as God’s spurs
Gerd sits spindle—shaped in her da… Lean face gone tawn with seasons, Skin worn down to the knucklebones At her tough trade; without time’s… The burnished ball hangs fire in h…
“I shut my eyes and all the world… I lift my lids and all is born aga… (I think I made you up inside my… The stars go waltzing out in blue… And arbitrary blackness gallops in…
Riding home from credulous blue do… the dreamer reins his waking appet… in panic at the crop of catacombs sprung up like plague of toadstool… refectories where he reveled have…
Here in this valley of discrete ac… We have not mountains, but mounts,… To the Adirondacks, to northern M… Themselves mere rocky hillocks to… Still, they’re out best mustering…
The courage of the shut mouth, in… The line pink and quiet, a worm, b… There are black disks behind it, t… And the outrage of a sky, the line… The disks revolve, they ask to be…
From Water-Tower Hill to the bri… The shingle booms, bickering under The sea’s collapse. Snowcakes break and welter. This… The gritted wave leaps
Tell me what you see in it: The pine tree like a Rorschach—bl… black against the orange light: Plant an orange pumpkin patch which at twelve will quaintly hatc…
The horizons ring me like faggots, Tilted and disparate, and always u… Touched by a match, they might war… And their fine lines singe The air to orange
You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo…
From under the crunch of my man’s… green oat-sprouts jut; he names a lapwing, starts rabbits… legging it most nimble to sprigged hedge of bramble,