(1923)
#AmericanWriters
The houses are haunted By white night-gowns. None are green, Or purple with green rings, Or green with yellow rings,
Not less because in purple I desc… The western day through what you c… The loneliest air, not less was I… What was the ointment sprinkled on… What were the hymns that buzzed be…
Barque of phosphor On the palmy beach, Move outward into heaven, Into the alabasters And night blues.
Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. I was of three minds, Like a tree
The poem must resist the intellige… Almost successfully. Illustration… A brune figure in winter evening r… Identity. The thing he carries re… The most necessitous sense. Accep…
Granted, we die for good. Life, then, is largely a thing Of happens to like, not should. And that, too, granted, why Do I happen to like red bush,
Twenty men crossing a bridge, Into a village, Are twenty men crossing twenty bri… Into twenty villages, Or one man
There were ghosts that returned to… As he sat there reading, aloud, th… They were those from the wildernes… There were those that returned to… Of the pans above the stove, the p…
After the final no there comes a y… And on that yes the future world d… No was the night. Yes is this pre… If the rejected things, the things… Slid over the western cataract, ye…
Call the roller of big cigars, The muscular one, and bid him whip In kitchen cups concupiscent curds… Let the wenches dawdle in such dre… As they are used to wear, and let…
Napoleon shifted Restless in the old sarcophagus And murmured to a watchguard: “Who goes there?” “Twenty-one million men,
Poetry is the supreme fiction, mad… Take the moral law and make a nave… And from the nave build haunted he… The conscience is converted into p… Like windy citherns hankering for…
Pour the unhappiness out From your too bitter heart, Which grieving will not sweeten. Poison grows in this dark. It is in the water of tears
Lulu sang of barbarians before the… Of gobs, who called her orchidean, Sniffed her and slapped heavy hand… Upon her. She made the eunuchs ululate.
It is true that the rivers went no… Tugging at banks, until they seeme… Bland belly-sounds in somnolent tr… That the air was heavy with the br… The breath of turgid summer, and