#Americans
THEY are crying salt tears Over the beautiful beloved body Of Inez Milholland, Because they are glad she lived, Because she loved open-armed,
Passing through huddled and ugly w… By doorways where women Looked from their hunger-deep eyes… Haunted with shadows of hunger-han… Out from the huddled and ugly wall…
(For Paula)THE GRIP of the ice… The silvers chase purple. The purples tag silver. They let out their runners Here where summer says to the lili…
UNDER the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker,
GIVE me your anathema. Speak new damnations on my head. The evening mist in the hills is s… The boulders on the road say commu… The farm dogs look out of their ey…
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
GOOD-BY now to the streets and… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding… haunches,
EMILY DICKINSON: You gave us the bumble bee who has… The everlasting traveler among the… And how God plays around a back y… STEVIE CRANE:
I came from Fargo with a load of wheat up to the danger line. I came from Omaha with a load of shorthorns and they splintered my boards. I carried apples from the Hood river last year a...
NEITHER rose leaves gathered in… Cinders-these-hissing in a marl an…
IN the morning, a Sunday morning, shadows of sea and adumbrants of rock in her eyes... horseback in leather boots and leather gauntlets by the sea. In the evening, a Sunday evening, a r...
They have painted and sung the women washing their hair, and the plaits and strands in the… and the golden combs and the combs of elephant tusks
Millions of men go to war, acres of them are buried, guns and ships broken, cities burned, villages sent up in smoke, and children where cows are killed off amid hoarse barbecues vanish...
ON the street Slung on his shoulder is a handle… Tied in a big knot on the scoop of… Are the overalls faded from sun an… Spatter of dry clay sticking yello…
In the loam we sleep, In the cool moist loam, To the lull of years that pass And the break of stars, From the loam, then,
