#AmericanWriters
NEITHER rose leaves gathered in… Cinders-these-hissing in a marl an…
RINGS of iron gray smoke; a woman’s steel face... looking... looking. Funnels of an ocean liner negotiating a fog night; pouring a taffy mass down the wind; layers of soot on the top de...
They were calling certain styles o… And another manner of beard assume… Of “mutton chops,” “galways,” “fea… Metaphors such as these sprang fro… Sprang from sparrows finding scatt…
The lean hands of wagon men put out pointing fingers here, picked this crossway, put it on a… set up their sawbucks, fixed their… found a hitching place for the pon…
The jaws of this man are bone of the Rocky Mountains, the Appalachians. The eyes of this man are chlorine of two sobbing oceans, Foam, salt, green, wind, the changing unknown. ...
(We can succeed only by concert. . . . The dogmas of the quiet past are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise with the occasion....
It’s going to come out all right&m… The sun, the birds, the grass&mdas… They get along—and we’ll get… Some days will be rainy and you wi… And the letter you wait for won’t…
SHAKE back your hair, O red-hea… Let go your laughter and keep your… Somewhere is a man looking for a r… Around and around go ten thousand… I have seen them hunting, hunting.
HOW much do you love me, a millio… Oh, a lot more than that, Oh, a l… And to-morrow maybe only half a bu… To-morrow maybe not even a half a… And is this your heart arithmetic?
EMPTY battlefields keep their ph… Grass crawls over old gun wheels And a nodding Canada thistle flin… Into the summer’s southwest wind, Wrapping a root in the rust of a b…
I asked the mayor of Gary about the 12-hour day and the 7-day week. And the mayor of Gary answered more workmen steal time on the job in Gary than any other place in the United States. ...
WHILE the hum and the hurry Of passing footfalls Beat in my ear like the restless s… Of a wind-blown sea, A soul came to me
There are no handles upon a langua… 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
ONE man killed another. The sayi… The killer wept over the dead. Th… Why is the sun a red ball in the s… Why is the moon a tumbling chimney…
I waited today for a freight train… Cattle cars with steers butting th… bars, went by. And a half a dozen hoboes stood on… cars.