#Americans
LET me be monosyllabic to-day, O… Yesterday I loosed a snarl of wor… on a child. To-day, let me be monosyllabic … a… who wash sunlight in their fingers…
IN the old wars drum of hoofs and… In the new wars hum of motors and… In the wars to come silent wheels… yet dreamed out in the heads of me… In the old wars clutches of short…
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…
STRONG rocks hold up the riksdag bridge... always strong river waters shoving their shoulders against them... In the riksdag to-night three hundred men are talking to each other about m...
The long beautiful night of the wi… The long night hanging down from t… Swinging, swaying, to the wind for… What is the humming, swishing thin… The rain, the wind, the swishing w…
The rear axles hold the kick of tw… It is in the records of the patent… The farm boy says hello to you ins… A bucket of oil and a can of greas… Rain proof and fool proof they sta…
SOMEWHERE you and I remember… Stairways from the sea and our hea… Ladders of dust and mud and our ha… Rags of drenching mist and our han… You and I that snickered in the c…
I AM The Great White Way of the… When you ask what is my desire, I… “Girls fresh as country wild flowe… With young faces tired of the cows… Eager in their eyes as the dawn to…
WISHES left on your lips The mark of their wings. Regrets fly kites in your eyes.
CAST a bronze of my head and legs and put them on the king’s street. Set the cast of me here alongside Carl XII, making two Carls for the Swedish people and the utlanders to look at bet...
THE BRASS medallion profile of… It is not jingling with loose chan… It is not stuck up in a show place… I carry it in a special secret poc… And it is under my pillow at night…
AMONG the red guns, In the hearts of soldiers Running free blood In the long, long campaign: Dreams go on.
JACK was a swarthy, swaggering s… He worked thirty years on the rail… and his hands were tougher than so… He married a tough woman and they… and the woman died and the childre…
A STORM of white petals, Buds throwing open baby fists Into hands of broad flowers. Red roses running upward, Clambering to the clutches of life
Child of the Aztec gods, how long must we listen here, how long before we go? The dust is deep on the lintels. The dust is dark on the doors.