#Americans #Modernism
The brutal Lord of All will rip us from each other—leave the one to suffer here alone. No need belief in god or hell to postulate that much. The dance: hands touching, leaves touch...
a burst of iris so that come down for breakfast we searched through the rooms for
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
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.
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang
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…
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
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…
