#AmericanWriters #Modernism
I’ve fond anticipation of a day O’erfilled with pure diversion pre… For I must read a lady poesy The while we glide by many a leafy… Hid deep in rushes, where at rando…
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
In Brueghel’s great picture, The… the dancers go round, they go roun… around, the squeal and the blare a… tweedle of bagpipes, a bugle and f… tipping their bellies (round as th…
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
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…
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Disciplined by the artist to go round and round in holiday gear a riotously gay rabble of
Beloved you are Caviar of Caviar Of all I love you best O my Japanese bird nest No herring from Norway
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
