#Americans #Modernism #XXCentury
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
This quiet morning light reflected, how many times from grass and tress and clouds enters my north room touching the walls with
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
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…
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
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…
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
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.
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
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
