#Americans #Suicide #1923 #FreeVerse #ThreeStoriesAndTenPoems
Desire and All the sweet pulsing aches And gentle hurtings That were you, Are gone into the sullen dark.
Minarets stuck up in the rain out of Adrianople across the mud flats. The carts were jammed for thirty miles along the Karagatch road. Water buffalo and cattle were hauling carts throug...
Soldiers never do die well; Crosses mark the places— Wooden crosses where they fell, Stuck above their faces. Soldiers pitch and cough and twitc…
So he ate an orange, slowly spitting out the seeds. Outside, the snow was turning to rain. Inside, the electric stove seemed to give no heat and rising from his writing-table, he sat do...
The door of Henry’s lunch-room opened and two men came in. They sat down at the counter. “I don’t know,” one of the men said. “What do you want to eat, Al?” “I don’t know,” said Al. “I ...
The train passed very quickly a long, red stone house with a garden and four thick palm-trees with tables under them in the shade. On the other side was the sea. Then there was a cuttin...
That night we lay on the floor in the room and I listened to the silk-worms eating. The silk-worms fed in racks of mulberry leaves and all night you could hear them eating and a droppin...
Workingmen believed He busted trusts, And put his picture in their windo… ‘What he’d have done in France!’ They said.
“Well,” Jack says, “I’m going to need a lot of luck with that boy.” “He couldn’t hit you with a handful of bird-shot.” “Bird-shot’d be all right,” Jack says. “I wouldn’t mind bird-shot ...
After one Fourth of July, Nick, driving home late from town in the big wagon with Joe Garner and his family, passed nine drunken Indians along the road. He remembered there were nine be...
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall… want him for long.
I like Canadians. They are so unlike Americans. They go home at night. Their cigarettes don’t smell bad. Their hats fit.
The age demanded that we sing And cut away our tongue. The age demanded that we flow And hammered in the bung. The age demanded that we dance
They whack whacked the white horse on the legs and he knee-ed himself up. The picador twisted the stirrups straight and pulled and hauled up into the saddle. The horse’s entrails hung d...
Manuel Garcia climbed the stairs to Don Miguel Retana’s office. He set down his suitcase and knocked on the door. There was no answer. Manuel, standing in the hallway, felt there was so...