#Americans #Modernism
The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
ALL those treasures that lie in t… Mightier than the room of the star… All those treasures—I hold them i… Against the sides and the lid and… Crying that there is no sun come a…
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
The half-stripped trees struck by a wind together, bending all, the leaves flutter drily and refuse to let go
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
Let the snake wait under his weed and the writing be of words, slow and quick, sharp to strike, quiet to wait,
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
To make two bold statements: There’s nothing sentimental about a machine, and: A poem is a small (or large) machine made out of words. When I say there’s nothing sentimental about a poe...
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.
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 will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
My wife’s new pink slippers have gay pompons. There is not a spot or a stain on their satin toes or their sides… All night they lie together
Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
