#Americans #Modernism
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
What have I to say to you When we shall meet? Yet— I lie here thinking of you. The stain of love
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
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…
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
They call me and I go. It is a frozen road past midnight, a dust of snow caught in the rigid wheeltracks.
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
I must tell you this young tree whose round and firm trunk between the wet pavement and the gutter
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
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…
It is a satisfaction a joy to have one of those in the house. when she takes a bath
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of