#Americans
When I fall asleep, and even duri… I hear, quite distinctly, voices s… Whole phrases, commonplace and tri… Having no relation to my affairs. Dear Mother, is any time left to…
Some who are uncertain compel me.… The Ace of Spades. They fear Loves offered suddenly, turning fr… Sweet with decision. And they dis… The fireworks by the lakeside, fir…
Where the sea gulls sleep or indee… Is a place of different traffic.… Consider the fishing bay (where I… And purely glide) a place that wea… Of will, and closes my eyes, as th…
Yeats died Saturday in France. Freedom from his animal Has come at last in alien Nice, His heart beat separate from his w… He knows at last the old abyss
Jeremiah Dickson was a true-blue… For he was a little boy who unders… Think about everything; because th… Knowing immediately the intimacy o… Knowing intuitively how a sense of…
You, my photographer, you, most aw… Who climbed to the bridge when the… Climbed with your camera when the… And lighted your flashes and, stan… Wound the camera in the sudden bur…
(after Spillane) Let us be aware of the true dark g… Acknowledgeing the cache of the cr… The primitive pure and pwerful pin… private sensitivites
(After Valery) O Sea!... ’Tis I, risen from dea… To hear the waves’ harmonious roar And see the galleys, sharp, in daw… Raised from the dark by the rising…
The common rain had come again Slanting and colorless, pale and a… Fainting falling in the first even… Of the first perception of the act… The long and late light had slowly…
“Trash, trash!” the king my uncle… “The spirit’s smoke and weak as sm… ”Sit in the sun and not among the… “Eat oranges! Pish tosh! the car… ”All ghosts came back. they do not…
“I have been one acquainted with t… Rode in the train all night, in th… Flew parallel with a singular will… attitudes The other passengers slumped, doze…
Tired and unhappy, you think of ho… Soft-carpeted and warm in the Dec… While snow’s white pieces fall pas… And the orange firelight leaps. A young girl sings
Poem Faithful to your commands, o… Beating wings, I studied the roses and the muses of reality… the deceptions and the deceptive e… and all the greened and thomed var…
Let me not, ever, to the marriage… Of Galilee admit the slightest se… Of doubt about the astonishing and… Of chance and choice to throw a sh… Of disbelief in truth—Love is not…
(Robert Frost, 1875-1963) Whose wood this is I think I know… He made it sacred long ago: He will expect me, far or near To watch that wood immense with sn…