#Americans #Modernism
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
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…
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
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...
