#AmericanWriters
LAY me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a crowb… Let me pry loose old walls. Let me lift and loosen old foundat… Lay me on an anvil, O God.
The mare Alix breaks the world’s trotting record one day. I see her heels flash down the dust of an Illinois race track on a summer afternoon. I see the timekeepers put their heads to...
I LOVE him, I love him, ran the… And she formed his name on her ton… And she sent him word she loved hi… So much, and death was nothing; wo… All was nothing if her love for hi…
Sobs En Route to a Penitentiary Good-by now to the streets and the… locking hubs, The sun coming on the brass buckle… The muscles of the horses sliding…
NAPOLEON shifted, Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,
Five geese deploy mysteriously. Onward proudly with flagstaffs, Hearses with silver bugles, Bushes of plum-blossoms dropping For ten mystic web-feet—
I KNOW an ice handler who wears… pearl buttons the size of a dollar… And he lugs a hundred—pound hunk i… box, helps himself to cold ham and… Tells the bartender it’s hotter th…
WHAT can we say of the night? The fog night, the moon night, the… There swept out of the sea a song. There swept out of the sea-torn wh… There came on the coast wind drive
LET us be honest; the lady was no… married a corporation lawyer who p… a Ziegfeld chorus. Before then she never took anybody… for her silk stockings out of what…
SHE loves blood-red poppies for a… In a loose white gown she walks and a new child tugs at cords in h… Her head to the west at evening wh… A shudder of gladness runs in her…
(Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms. I might have said, ‘Dogs bark and the wind carries it away.’ I might have said, ‘He who would make a door of gold mu...
Many things I might have said tod… And I kept my mouth shut. So many times I was asked To come and say the same things Everybody was saying, no end
THERE was a late autumn cricket, And two smoldering mountain sunset… Under the valley roads of her eyes… There was a late autumn cricket, A hangover of summer song,
ALL day long in fog and wind, The waves have flung their beating… Against the palisades of adamant. My boy, he went to sea, long and l… Curls of brown were slipping under…
THE sea is never still. It pounds on the shore Restless as a young heart, Hunting. The sea speaks