#AmericanWriters
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
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...
The sky has given over its bitterness. Out of the dark change all day long rain falls and falls
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
Among the rain and lights I saw the figure 5 in gold on a red
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 the field by force; the grass
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…
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
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…