(1916)
#AmericanWriters #Modernism
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
Not because of his eyes, the eyes of a bird, but because he is beaked, birdlike, to do an injury, has the turtle attracted you.
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—
Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of
Oh strong—ridged and deeply hollow… nose of mine! what will you not be… What tactless asses we are, you an… always indiscriminate, always unas… and now it is the souring flowers…
Yellow, yellow, yellow, yellow! It is not a color. It is summer! It is the wind on a willow, the lap of waves, the shadow
As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
Light hearted William twirled his November moustaches and, half dressed, looked from the bedroom window upon the spring weather.
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
