#AmericanWriters
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.
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...
Rather notice, mon cher, that the moon is titled above the point of the steeple than that its color
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
You Communists and Republicans! all you Germans and Frenchmen! you corpses and quickeners! The stars are about to melt and fall on you in tears.
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...
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
It is a willow when summer is over… a willow by the river from which no leaf has fallen nor bitten by the sun turned orange or crimson.
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on