#Americans #Modernism
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
From the Nativity which I have already celebrated the Babe in its Mother’s arms the Wise Men in their stolen splendor
The birches are mad with green poi… the wood’s edge is burning with th… burning, seething—No, no, no. The birches are opening their leav… by one. Their delicate leaves unfo…
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…
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
When the snow falls the flakes spi… that concerns them most intimately two and two to make a dance the mind dances with itself, taking you by the hand,
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
The grass is very green, my friend… and tousled, like the head of —— your grandson, yes? And the mounta… the mountain we climbed twenty years since for the last
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
The world begins again! Not wholly insufflated the blackbirds in the rain upon the dead topbranches of the living tree,
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night