#AmericanWriters
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
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...
And yet one arrives somehow, finds himself loosening the hooks… her dress in a strange bedroom— feels the autumn
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
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—
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
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.
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…