#AmericanWriters
DRAGOONS, I tell you the white… turn rust and go soon. Already mid September a line of b… over them. One sunset after another tracks th…
JESUS emptied the devils of one man into forty hogs and the hogs took the edge of a high rock and dropped off and down into the sea: a mob. The sheep on the hills of Australia, blunde...
LAY me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a crowb… Let me pry loose old walls. Let me lift and loosen old foundat… Lay me on an anvil, O God.
THESE are the tawny days: your f… The grapes take on purple: the sun… The bashful mornings hurl gray mis… Creep, silver on the field, the fr… Run on, yellow balls on the hills,…
MY head knocks against the stars. My feet are on the hilltops. My finger-tips are in the valleys… universal life. Down in the sounding foam of prima…
ALL day long in fog and wind, The waves have flung their beating… Against the palisades of adamant. My boy, he went to sea, long and l… Curls of brown were slipping under…
BORN a million years ago you sta… watching the women come and live a… you and they thin-gray thin-dusk l… So it goes: either the early morni… I am glad I have seen racehorses,…
THE working girls in the morning… long lines of them afoot amid the… and factories, thousands with litt… lunches wrapped in newspapers unde… Each morning as I move through th…
Every year Emily Dickinson sent o… the first arbutus bud in her garde… In a last will and testament Andr… remembered a friend with the gift… Washington’s pocket spy-glass.
THERE are no handles upon a lang… Whereby men take hold of it And mark it with signs for its rem… It is a river, this language, Once in a thousand years
BROTHER, I am fire Surging under the ocean floor. I shall never meet you, brother— Not for years, anyhow; Maybe thousands of years, brother.
HOW many feet ran with sunlight,… What little devils shaken of laugh… Fixed this lone red tulip, a woman… Who hurled this bomb of red caress… Love me before I die;
THIS handful of grass, brown, says little. This quarter mile field of it, waving seeds ripening in the sun, is a lake of luminous firefly lavender. Prairie roses, two of them, climb dow...
PLAY it across the table. What if we steal this city blind? If they want any thing let 'em nai… Harness bulls, dicks, front office… And the high goats up on the bench…
I CANNOT tell you now; When the wind’s drive and whirl Blow me along no longer, And the wind’s a whisper at last— Maybe I’ll tell you then—