#AmericanWriters
My townspeople, beyond in the grea… are many with whom it were far mor… profitable for me to live than her… These whirr about me calling, call… and for my own part I answer them,…
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
All the complicated details of the attiring and the disattiring are completed! A liquid moon moves gently among
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
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…
The coroner’s merry little childre… Have such twinkling brown eyes. Their father is not of gay men And their mother jocular in no wis… Yet the coroner’s merry little chi…
SOFT as the bed in the earth Where a stone has lain— So soft, so smooth and so cool, Spring closes me in With her arms and her hands.
Constantly near you, I never in m… sixty-four years knew you so well… or half so well. We talked. you we… so lucid, so disengaged from all e… of place and time. We talked of ou…
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
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
Again I reply to the triple winds running chromatic fifths of derisi… outside my window: Play louder. You will not succeed. I am