#AmericanWriters #FemaleWriters
Fifty wizards working in the wind And one tall wizard standing in th… Made a quick sheen to lacquer all… Up leapt the sun. The air was far… The weeds, the grass, the corn, th…
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 in the fright of change when b… In fountains of debris We say to the stranger coming acro… Not here, not here, go elsewhere! Here we keep
Noiselessly the planets will blow… Like smoke, like breath, like driv… Frost-bitten suns on on, on on wil… Over earth’s curve, the moons, lik… Making no noise and only vague sha…
Gnats and an ant have gnawed your… You who could spring and sprawl on… Down half the meadow. Under tiny… The ant has stored your essence.… You stitched the air with level da…
Only to tell your loveliness–this… Only to tell Pain’s odor, beauty-burning miracl… Of my surrender! Late I flew...
A middle class fortress in which t… Draw down the curtain as if saying… While noon’s ablaze, ablaze outsid… And outside people work and sweat And the day clings by and the hard…
Over you, over you, over, I hang like a wave, like a lover, Like a scimitar edged with hate; Too heavy with grief to be straigh… And far,
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…
Your face from my face slips, Lover of my lips. Holder of my heart, For all our close companionships, We are apart.
Winter put his shoulder To our door, Nights are turning colder More and more; We are old–or older
I dreamed you were the sea; I dreamed you pounded With foamy fists, the sad face of… Waking, I lay beneath you, And the room resounded
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.
Sap stirs near me, roots stretch a… Sundering stones. And rivers waken, start in monoton… Their later tunes. Oaks bend their knotted knees
Never heard happier laughter. Where did you hear it? Somwhere in the future. Very far in the future? No, not far, but near. American