#AmericanWriters
Among of green stiff old
Here it is spring again and I still a young man! I am late at my singing. The sparrow with the black rain on… has been at his cadenzas for two w…
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
By the road to the contagious hosp… under the surge of the blue mottled clouds driven from the northeast—a cold wind. Beyond, th… waste of broad, muddy fields
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,
Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…
The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky
O—EH—lee! La—la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
Paterson lies in the valley under… its spent waters forming the outli… lies on his right side, head near… of the waters filling his dreams!… his dreams walk about the city whe…
When over the flowery, sharp pastu… edge, unseen, the salt ocean lifts its form—chicory and daisies tied, released, seem hardly flower… but color and the movement—or the…
Sooner or later we must come to the end of striving to re-establish the image the image of
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air ——The edge
The brutal Lord of All will rip us from each other—leave the one to suffer here alone. No need belief in god or hell to postulate that much. The dance: hands touching, leaves touch...
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island