#Americans #Modernism
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
I lie here thinking of you:—— the stain of love is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow it eats into the leaves,
WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
My shoes as I lean unlacing them stand out upon flat worsted flowers under my feet.
School is over. It is too hot to walk at ease. At ease in light frocks they walk the stre… to while the time away. They have grown tall. They hold
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading