#AmericanWriters
NOW that a crimson rambler begins to crawl over the house of our two lives— Now that a red curve winds across the shingles—
CLOSE-MOUTHED you sat five t… let out a whisper. Processions came by, marchers, ask… answered with grey eyes never blin… never talking.
The long beautiful night of the wi… The long night hanging down from t… Swinging, swaying, to the wind for… What is the humming, swishing thin… The rain, the wind, the swishing w…
MY people are gray, pigeon gray, dawn gray, storm gray… I call them beautiful, and I wonder where they are going.
FIVE circus clowns dying this year, morning newspapers told their lives, how each one horizontal in a last gesture of hands arranged by an undertaker, shook thousands into convulsions o...
THE Government—I heard about th… I went out to find it. I said I w… it when I saw it. Then I saw a policeman dragging a… the callaboose. It was the Govern…
THE HORSE’S name was Remorse. There were people said, ‘Gee, wha… And they were Edgar Allan Poe bu… They called him Remorse. When he was a gelding
IN the morning, a Sunday morning, shadows of sea and adumbrants of rock in her eyes... horseback in leather boots and leather gauntlets by the sea. In the evening, a Sunday evening, a r...
IN the night, when the sea-winds… And cool the loud streets that kep… In the night, when the sea-birds c… The lights that cut on the skyline… In the night, when the trains and…
THE TIME has gone by. The child is dead. The child was never even born. Why go on? Why so much as begin? How can we turn the clock back now
THE LADY in red, she in the chi… Brilliant as the shine of a pepper… She behind a false-face, the much… The lady in red sox and red hat, a… I sit in a corner
THE monotone of the rain is beaut… And the sudden rise and slow relap… Of the long multitudinous rain. The sun on the hills is beautiful, Or a captured sunset sea-flung,
ELSIE FLIMMERWON, you got a… The houses go wild when you finish… It is long ago, Elsie Flimmerwon,… It is long ago, Elsie, and now th… Then you were a little thing in ch…
DEATH comes once, let it be easy… Ring one bell for me once, let it… Or ring no bell at all, better yet… Sing one song if I die. Sing John Brown’s Body or Shout…
On up the sea slant, On up the horizon, The ship limps. The bone of her nose fog-gray, The heart of her sea-strong,