#Americans #Modernism
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, the waste of broad, muddy fields
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Each time it rings I think it is for me but it is not for me nor for anyone it merely
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
Go to sleep—though of course you w… to tideless waves thundering slant… strong embankments, rattle and swi… dashed thirty feet high, caught by… scattered and strewn broadcast in…
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter