#Americans #Women
In the old days At barn raisings After they worked together They danced together. So lay the floor, Americans,
Never heard happier laughter. Where did you hear it? Somwhere in the future. Very far in the future? No, not far, but near. American
Harsh, unuttered thunder Stood like a stone wall Above the marsh’s silver line. Crooked cranes, white as lightning… Flattened for an instant, flashing…
Sap stirs near me, roots stretch a… Sundering stones. And rivers waken, start in monoton… Their later tunes. Oaks bend their knotted knees
Up that thin river, going over san… Down that deep river, purple to th… My fingers fire; cool your quiet h… And your voice sad, and mine the a… So, silver-thin, the flute-like ru…
Red is the mouth of Pele, passion… Against the fires of the kindling… Fire to fire moves: the heavens wa… As low to earth comes crimson-drip… They kiss in thunder, shudder, suf…
How tender-mad the little meadows… The wobbling lambs are tasting mil… The tipsy trees Are leaned like foam on green, win… The pale moth flutters where the p…
Other hearts have broken gracefull… And now your eyes reproach me that… Is awkward, and my arms Are angular across my breast Where emptiness is pressed.
If you will poise your forefoot in… I will not loose a ripple, Beauti… Crackle the fern-stems, arch aloft… See! there’s no fright for you, an… A leaf shall not lift, nor a shade…
Now I am slow and placid, fond of… Like a sleek beast, or a worn one, No slim and languid girl – not gla… With the windy trip I once had, But velvet-footed, musing of my ow…
Wishes are birds. You have been c… With them, invisible, I sent you… Flown from my heart that long had… Surpassing winds in their sharp ea… You have not seen their dim shades…
Fearful of beauty, I always went Timidly indifferent: Dainty, hesitant, taking in Just what was tiniest and thin; Careful not to care
Withhold your breath! Heavy in noon, and sleepy as slow… Garden of sweets and sours, The cluster of my body hangs Odorous with flowers:
Winter put his shoulder To our door, Nights are turning colder More and more; We are old–or older
Men go to women mutely for their p… And they, who lack it most, create… They make–because they must, lovin… A solace for sad bosom-bended head… Is all the meager peace men get–no…