#AmericanWriters
CLOSE-MOUTHED you sat five t… let out a whisper. Processions came by, marchers, ask… answered with grey eyes never blin… never talking.
FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on ...
GUNS, Long, steel guns, Pointed from the war ships In the name of the war god. Straight, shining, polished guns,
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,
(March, 1919)A LIAR goes in fin… A liar goes in rags. A liar is a liar, clothes or no cl… A liar is a liar and lives on the… And the stonecutters earn a living…
SHINE on, O moon of summer. Shine to the leaves of grass, cata… All silver under your rain to-nigh… An Italian boy is sending songs t… A Polish boy is out with his best…
OF my city the worst that men wil… You took little children away from… And the glimmers that played in th… And the reckless rain; you put the… To work, broken and smothered, for…
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…
POLICEMAN in front of a bank… Policeman State and Madison... hi… Woman in suburbs... keeping night… Woman selling gloves... bargain da…
‘I KNEW a real man once,’ says… Did a man touch his lips to Agath… Agatha, far past forty in a splend…
YOU never come back. I say good-by when I see you goin… The hopeless open doors that call… And take you then for—how many cen… How many cents for the sleepy eyes…
Drum on your drums, batter on your… sob on the long cool winding saxop… Go to it, O jazzmen. Sling your knuckles on the bottoms… tin pans, let your trombones ooze,…
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:
FLING your red scarf faster and… It is summer and the sun loves a m… masses of green. Your red scarf flashes across them… The silk and flare of it is a grea…
Chatter of birds two by two raises… showing the russet of old stones r… And the long willows drowse on the… joined songs of day-end, feathery… It is too much for the long willow…
