Cornhuskers. 1918.
#AmericanWriters
AFTER you have spent all the money modistes and manicures and mannikins will take for fixing you over into a thing the people on the streets call proud and beautiful, After the shops an...
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…
I KNOW a Jew fish crier down on… voice like a north wind blowing ov… in January. He dangles herring before prospect… a joy identical with that of Pavlo…
YOUR bony head, Jazbo, O dock w… Those grappling hooks, those wheel… The dome and the wings of you, ***… The red roof and the door of you, I know where your songs came from.
THE HORSE’S name was Remorse. There were people said, ‘Gee, wha… And they were Edgar Allan Poe bu… They called him Remorse. When he was a gelding
WANDERING oversea dreamer, Hunting and hoarse, Oh daughter a… Oh daughter of ashes and mother of… Child of the hair let down, and te… Child of the cross in the south
Mamie Riley married Jimmy Higgins last night: Eddie Jones died of whooping cough: George Hacks got a job on the police force: the Rosenheims bought a brass bed: Lena Hart giggled at a j...
I have seen The old gods go And the new gods come. Day by day And year by year
BY day the skyscraper looms in th… has a soul. Prairie and valley, streets of the… it and they mingle among its twent… poured out again back to the stree…
THE BUFFALOES are gone. And those who saw the buffaloes ar… Those who saw the buffaloes by tho… Those who saw the buffaloes are go… And the buffaloes are gone.
Look out how you use proud words. When you let proud words go, it is… They wear long boots, hard boots;… Look out how you use proud words.
There was a high majestic fooling Day before yesterday in the yellow… And day after to-morrow in the yel… There will be high majestic foolin… The ears ripen in late summer
THE SEA rocks have a green moss… The pine rocks have red berries. I have memories of you. Speak to me of how you miss me. Tell me the hours go long and slow…
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
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…