Cornhuskers. 1918.
#Americans
HATS, where do you belong? what is under you? On the rim of a skyscraper’s foreh… I looked down and saw: hats: fifty… Swarming with a noise of bees and…
Give me hunger, O you gods that sit and give The world its orders. Give me hunger, pain and want, Shut me out with shame and failure
I GIVE the undertakers permissio… to the graveyard and to lay away a… feet, the hands, all: I know there… over they can not put away. Let the nanny goats and the billy…
WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin … in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall S...
She held herself a deep pool for h… And the shadows crying for him He gathered himself in many dark w… And the shadows crying for her They took each other in shadow mee…
THE DOWN drop of the blackbird, The wing catch of arrested flight, The stop midway and then off: off… This is April’s way: a woman: ‘O yes, I’m here again and your h…
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...
FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late ...
LONG ago I learned how to sleep, In an old apple orchard where the… In a wind-gaunt orchard where the… In a passel of trees where the bra… I slept with my head in an elbow o…
SHINE on, O moon of summer. Shine to the leaves of grass, cata… All silver under your rain to-nigh… An Italian boy is sending songs t… A Polish boy is out with his best…
I SPOT the hills With yellow balls in autumn. I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins.
SMASH down the cities. Knock the walls to pieces. Break the factories and cathedrals… and homes Into loose piles of stone and lumb…
THE HIGH horses of the sea brok… On the walls that held and counted… The wind lasted. Two landbirds looked on and the no… Looked on and the wind poured cups…
PAPA JOFFRE, the shoulders of him wide as the land of France. We look on the shoulders filling the stage of the Chicago Auditorium. A fat mayor has spoken much English and the mud o...
A father sees his son nearing manh… What shall he tell that son? ‘Life is hard; be steel; be a rock… And this might stand him for the s… and serve him for humdrum monotony