#AmericanWriters #Modernism
This plot of ground facing the waters of this inlet is dedicated to the living presenc… Emily Dickinson Wellcome who was born in England; married;
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
A power-house in the shape of a red brick chair 90 feet high on the seat of which
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
It’s all in the sound. A song. Seldom a song. It should be a song—made of particulars, wasps,
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
Even in the time when as yet I had no certain knowledge of her She sprang from the nest, a young… Whose first flight circled the for… I know now how then she showed me
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
Well, Lizzie Anderson! seventeen… the baby hard to find a father for… What will the good Father in Heav… to the local judge if he do not so… A little two-pointed smile and—pou…