(1916)
#AmericanWriters #Modernism
Leaves are graygreen, the glass broken, bright green.
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
Flowers through the window lavender and yellow changed by white curtains— Smell of cleanliness— Sunshine of late afternoon—
I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken
It is cold. The white moon is up among her scattered stars— like the bare thighs of the Police Sergeant’s wife—among her five children . . .
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
The pure products of America go crazy— mountain folk from Kentucky or the ribbed north end of Jersey
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
I have had my dream—like others— and it has come to nothing, so tha… I remain now carelessly with feet planted on the ground and look up at the sky—
A three-day-long rain from the eas… an terminable talking, talking of no consequence—patter, patter,… Hand in hand little winds blow the thin streams aslant.
