#AmericanWriters #Couplet #FreeVerse
They tell me on the morrow I must… This winter eyrie for a southern f… And truth to tell I tremble with… At thought of such unheralded repr… E’er have I known December in a w…
This particular thing, whether it be four pinches of four divers white powders cleverly compounded to cure surely, safely, pleasantly a painful twitching of the eyelids or say a pe...
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
In the flashes and black shadows of July the days, locked in each other’s a… seem still so that squirrels and colored bird…
This horrible but superb painting the parable of the blind without a red in the composition shows a group of beggars leading
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated at and sang
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...
Vast and grey, the sky is a simulacrum to all but him whose days are vast and grey and— In the tall, dried grasses
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
Even in the time when as yet I had no certain knowledge of her She sprang from the nest, a young… Whose first flight circled the for… I know now how then she showed me
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
If when my wife is sleeping and the baby and Kathleen are sleeping and the sun is a flame-white disc in silken mists
While she sits there with tears on her cheek her cheek on
