#Americans
IT is something to face the sun and know you are free. To hold your head in the shafts of daylight slanting the earth And know your heart has kept a promise and the blood runs clean: To...
(For S. A.)TO write one book in… or five books in one year, to be the painter and the thing pa… ... where are we, bo? Wait-get his number.
The Balloons hang on wires in the… They spot their yellow and gold, t… Balloon face eaters sit by hundred… Poets, lawyers, ad men, mason cont… Here sit the heavy balloon face wo…
SOMEBODY loses whenever somebo… This was known to the Chaldeans l… And more: somebody wins whenever s… This too was in the savvy of the… They take it heaven’s hereafter is…
LET a joy keep you. Reach out your hands And take it when it runs by, As the Apache dancer Clutches his woman.
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…
MRS. GABRIELLE GIOVANNI… every morning at nine o’clock With kindling wood piled on top of… looking straight ahead to find the… Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Pietro…
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…
YOUR eyes and the valley are mem… Your eyes fire and the valley a bo… It was here a moonrise crept over… It was here we turned the coffee c… And your eyes and the moon swept t…
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...
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...
Band concert public square Nebraska city. Flowing and circling dresses, summer-white dresses. Faces, flesh tints flung like sprays of cherry blossoms. And gigglers, God knows, gigglers,...
I AM the mist, the impalpable mis… Back of the thing you seek. My arms are long, Long as the reach of time and spac… Some toil and toil, believing,
DREAMS in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day’s close going bac… To the gray things, the dark thing… The far, deep things of dreamland.
SEVEN days all fog, all mist, an… I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in… Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moo… Then an afternoon in fjords, low-l… A night harbor, blue dusk mountain…