#Americans
THREE violins are trying their h… The piece is MacDowell’s Wild Ro… And the time of the wild rose And the leaves of the wild rose And the dew-shot eyes of the wild…
FLAT lands on the end of town where real estate men are crying new subdivisions, The sunsets pour blood and fire over you hundreds and hundreds of nights, flat lands—blood and fire of...
HERE in a cage the dollars come… To the click of a tube the dollars… And out of a mouth the dollars run… I finger the dollars, Paper and silver,
(Chirstmas Day, 1917)THE FIV… The red dust of a rusty crimson is… The timberline turns in a cover of… ‘Jesus in an Illinois barn early…
THE TIME has gone by. The child is dead. The child was never even born. Why go on? Why so much as begin? How can we turn the clock back now
JOY... weaving two violet petals for a coat lapel... painting on a slab of night sky a Christ face... slipping new brass keys into rusty iron locks and shouldering till at last the door...
TEN minutes now I have been look… I have gone by here before and won… This is a bronze memorial of a fam… Riding horseback with a flag and a… on him.
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
When country fiddlers held a conve… Danville, the big money went to a… artist who played Turkey in the S… variations. They asked him the name of the pie…
UNDERTAKERS, hearse drivers,… I speak to you as one not afraid o… You handle dust going to a long co… You know the secret behind your jo… you lower the coffin with modern,…
The haggard woman with a hacking cough and a deathless love whispers of white flowers... in your poem you pour like a cup of coffee, Gabriel. The slim girl whose voice was lost in the w...
THE BABY moon, a canoe, a silve… A ring of silver foxes, a mist of… One yellow star for a runner, and… O foxes, baby moon, runners, you a… Who squats, legs crossed and arms…
IN the moonlight under a shag-bar… Watching the yellow shadows melt i… Listening to the yes and the no of… I kept my guess why the night was… The night was lit with a woman’s e…
THEY are crying salt tears Over the beautiful beloved body Of Inez Milholland, Because they are glad she lived, Because she loved open-armed,
Millions of men go to war, acres of them are buried, guns and ships broken, cities burned, villages sent up in smoke, and children where cows are killed off amid hoarse barbecues vanish...