Six years I worked in a knitting… And then I married Jerry, the ice… He weighed 240 pounds, and could h… Who weighed 105 pounds, outward ea… He came home drunk and lay on me w…

BLOSSOMS of babies Blinking their stories Come soft On the dusk and the babble; Little red gamblers,

The mare Alix breaks the world’€™s trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an Illinois race track on a summer afternoon. I see the timekeepers put their heads to...

THE SEA is large. The sea hold on a leg of land in t… Five white houses on a half-mile s… Not so long ago … the sea was larg… And to-day the sea has lost nothin…

Six streets come together here. They feed people and wagons into t… In and out all day horses with tho… Men with shovels, women with baske… Six ends of streets and no sleep f…

THE SUMMER shirt sale of a downtown haberdasher is glorified in a show-window slang: everybody understands the language: red dots, yellow circles, blue anchors, and dove-brown hooks, th...

I AM the undertow Washing tides of power Battering the pillars Under your things of high law. I am a sleepless

WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge, There are points of high silence—twid...

THE owl-car clatters along, dogge… From building and battered paving-… The headlight scoffs at the mist, And fixes its yellow rays in the c… Against a pane I press my forehea…

HE lived on the wings of storm. The ashes are in Chihuahua. Out of Ludlow and coal towns in C… Sprang a vengeance of Slav miners… Killings ran under the spoken comm…

I was a boy when I heard three re… a thousand Frenchmen died in the s… for: Liberty, Equality, Fraternit… why men die for words. I was older; men with mustaches, s…

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,

ELSIE FLIMMERWON, you got a… The houses go wild when you finish… It is long ago, Elsie Flimmerwon,… It is long ago, Elsie, and now th… Then you were a little thing in ch…

THE FINE cloth of your love mig… Something Sinbad, the sailor, too… Something a traveler with plenty o… And bring home and stick on the wa… ‘There’s a little thing made a hit…

I CANNOT tell you now; When the wind’s drive and whirl Blow me along no longer, And the wind’s a whisper at last— Maybe I’ll tell you then—