#Americans #Modernism
WHERE shall I find you— You, my grotesque fellows That I seek everywhere To make up my band? None, not one
You sullen pig of a man you force me into the mud with your stinking ash-cart! Brother! —if we were rich
The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail
Summer! the painting is organized about a young reaper enjoying his noonday rest
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
Oh, black Persian cat! Was not your life already cursed with offspring? We took you for rest to that old Yankee farm, —so lonely
munching a plum on the street a paper bag of them in her hand They taste good to her They taste good
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…
Tracks of rain and light linger in the spongy greens of a nature whos… flickering mountain—bulging nearer… ebbing back into the sun hollowing itself away to hold a la…
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
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...
I gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.
At ten AM the young housewife moves about in negligee behind the wooden walls of her husband’s… I pass solitary in my car. Then again she comes to the curb
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…
The dayseye hugging the earth in August, ha! Spring is gone down in purple, weeds stand high in the corn, the rainbeaten furrow
