#AmericanWriters
Oh, but it is dirty! —this little filling station, oil—soaked, oil—permeated to a disturbing, over—all black translucency.
Across the floor flits the mechani… fit for a king of several centurie… A little circus horse with real wh… His eyes are glossy black. He bears a little dancer on his ba…
Moving from left to left, the ligh… is heavy on the Dome, and coarse. One small lunette turns it aside and blankly stares off to the side like a big white old wall—eyed hor…
At four o’clock in the gun-metal blue dark we hear the first crow of the firs… just below the gun-metal blue window
In your next letter I wish you’d… where you are going and what you a… how are the plays and after the pl… what other pleasures you’re pursui… taking cabs in the middle of the n…
The rain has stopped. The waterfa… night. I have come out to take a w… that is—is wet and cold and covere… white, the size of a dinner plate.… certain rock, but it may well be d…
Out on the high “bird islands,” C… the razorbill auks and the silly—l… with their backs to the mainland in solemn, uneven lines along the… while the few sheep pastured there…
I can make out the rigging of a sc… a mile off; I can count the new cones on the spruce. It is… the pale bay wears a milky skin; t… no clouds except for one long, car…
Although it is a cold evening, down by one of the fishhouses an old man sits netting, his net, in the gloaming almost in… a dark purple—brown,
From a magician’s midnight sleeve the radio-singers distribute all their love-songs over the dew-wet lawns. And like a fortune-teller’s
Wasted, wasted minutes that couldn… minutes of a barbaric condescensio… —Stare out the bathroom window at… at their dark needles, accretions… woodenly crystallized, and where t…
Half squatter, half tenant (no ren… a sort of inheritance; white, in your thirties now, and supposed to supply me with vegetables, but you don’t; or you won’t; or yo…
Hidden, oh hidden in the high fog the house we live in, beneath the magnetic rock, rain—, rainbow—ridden,
I am in need of music that would f… Over my fretful, feeling fingertip… Over my bitter—tainted, trembling… With melody, deep, clear, and liqu… Oh, for the healing swaying, old a…
On the unbreathing sides of hills they play, a specklike girl and bo… alone, but near a specklike house. The Sun’s suspended eye blinks casually, and then they wad…