(1948)
#AmericanWriters
In a shoe box stuffed in an old ny… Sleeps the baby mouse I found in… Where he trembled and shook beneat… Till I caught him up by the tail… Cradled in my hand,
Let others probe the mystery if th… Time—harried prisoners of Shall a… The right thing happens to the hap… The bird flies out, the bird flies… The hill becomes the valley, and i…
When I put her out, once, by the… She looked so limp and bedraggled, So foolish and trusting, like a si… Or a wizened aster in late Septem… I brought her back in again
I saw a young snake glide Out of the mottled shade And hang, limp on a stone: A thin mouth, and a tongue Stayed, in the still air.
The whiskey on your breath Could make a small boy dizzy; But I hung on like death: Such waltzing was not easy. We romped until the pans
Now as the train bears west, Its rhythm rocks the earth, And from my Pullman berth I stare into the night While others take their rest.
One feather is a bird, I claim; one tree, a wood; In her low voice I heard More than a mortal should; And so I stood apart,
Where were the greenhouses going, Lunging into the lashing Wind driving water So far down the river All the faucets stopped?—
I think the dead are tender. Shal… My lady laughs, delighting in what… If she but sighs, a bird puts out… She makes space lonely with a love… She lilts a low soft language, and…
I wake to sleep, and take my wakin… I feel my fate in what I cannot f… I learn by going where I have to… We think by feeling. What is ther… I hear my being dance from ear to…
What’s this? A dish for fat lips. Who says? A nameless stranger. Is he a bird or a tree? Not every… Water recedes to the crying of spi… An old scow bumps over black rocks…
I remember the neckcurls, limp and… And her quick look, a sidelong pic… And how, once started into talk, t… And she balanced in the delight of… A wren, happy, tail into the wind,
In purest song one plays the const… As changes shimmer in the inner ey… I stare and stare into a deepening… And tell myself my image cannot di… I love myself: that’s my one const…
My secrets cry aloud. I have no need for tongue. My heart keeps open house, My doors are widely swung. An epic of the eyes
In Saginaw, in Saginaw, The wind blows up your feet, When the ladies’ guild puts on a f… There’s beans on every plate, And if you eat more than you shoul…