ABOWSKY’S place is on a side street and only the rain washes the dusty three balls. When I passed the window a month ago, there rested in proud isolation: A family bible with hasps ...

SMOKE of the fields in spring is… Smoke of the leaves in autumn anot… Smoke of a steel-mill roof or a ba… They all go up in a line with a sm… Or they twist … in the slow twist…

There will be a rusty gun on the w… The rifle grooves curling with fla… A spider will make a silver string… darkest, warmest corner of it. The trigger and the range-finder,…

THE SEA at its worst drives a w… The same sea sometimes so easy and… So you were there when the white f… And the salt spatter and the rack… You were done fingering these, and…

THE SHALE and water thrown tog… Then a potter’s hand on the wheel… Slimpsy, loose and ready to fall a… Dipped in glaze more fire plays on… Take it now; out of mud now here i…

IN western fields of corn and nor… They talk about me, a saloon with… The soft red lights, the long curv… The leather seats and dim corners, Tall brass spittoons, a nigger cut…

Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…

MAMIE beat her head against the… town and dreamed of romance and bi… somewhere the way the railroad tra… She could see the smoke of the eng… where the streaks of steel flashed…

DOWN between the walls of shadow Where the iron laws insist, The hunger voices mock. The worn wayfaring men With the hunched and humble should…

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…

AFTER the last red sunset glimme… Black on the line of a low hill ri… Formed into moving shadows, I saw A plowboy and two horses lined aga… Plowing in the dusk the last furro…

THE monotone of the rain is beaut… And the sudden rise and slow relap… Of the long multitudinous rain. The sun on the hills is beautiful, Or a captured sunset sea-flung,

PIETRO has twenty red and blue… They flutter and dance pulling Pi… A nickel apiece is what they sell… Wishing children tag Pietro’s hee… He sells out and goes the streets…

ON the lips of the child Janet fl… It is a thin spiral of blue smoke, A morning campfire at a mountain l… On the lips of the child Janet, Wisps of haze on ten miles of corn…

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,