#AmericanWriters
hist whist little ghostthings tip-toe twinkle-toe little twitchy
as freedom is a breakfastfood or truth can live with right and w… or molehills are from mountains ma… —long enough and just so long will being pay the rent of seem
a blue woman with sticking out bre… clothes. On the line. not so old for the mother of twelve undershir… by is it Bishop Taylor who needs… that marriage is a sure cure for m…
this is the garden:colours come an… frail azures fluttering from night… strong silent greens silently ling… absolute lights like baths of gold… This is the garden:pursed lips do…
nearer:breath of my breath:take no… limbs from me:make my pain their c… letting they tigers of smooth swee… slowly in dumb blossoms of new min… deeper:blood of my blood:with upwa…
O Thou to whom the musical white… offers her lily inextinguishable, taught by thy tremulous grace brav… Implacable death’s mysteriously sa… rob from her redolent shoulders,
Sometimes in)Spring a someone will lie(glued among familiar things newly which… transferred with dusk)wondering wh… does not fall into his mind
god gloats upon Her stunning flesh… the rechings of Her green body amo… unseen things, things obscene (Who… the caving ages curiously con) —but the lunge of Her hunger softl…
little tree little silent Christmas tree you are so little you are more like a flower who found you in the green forest
here is little Effie’s head whose brains are made of gingerbre… when the judgment day comes God will find six crumbs stooping by the coffinlid
a clown’s smirk in the skull of a… (where once good lips stalked or e… my mirror gives me on this afterno… i am a shape that can but eat and… ere with the dirt death shall him…
raise the shade will youse dearie? rain wouldn’t that get yer goat but
little ladies than dead exactly dance in my head,precisely dance where danced la guerre. Mimi à
the bigness of cannon is skilful, but i have seen death’s clever enormous voice which hides in a fragility
one April dusk the sallow street-lamps were turning snowy against a west of robin’s eg… i entered a mad street whose mouth dripped with slavver of
