#Americans #Modernism
A middle-northern March, now as a… gusts from the South broken agains… but from under, as if a slow hand… it moves—not into April—into a sec… the old skin of wind-clear scales…
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
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 living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!
An old willow with hollow branches slowly swayed his few high gright… and sang: Love is a young green willow shimmering at the bare wood’s edge…
The green-blue ground is ruled with silver lines to say the sun is shining And on this moral sea of grass or dreams lie flowers
One leaves his leaves at home beomg a mullen and sends up a ligh… to peer from: I will have my way, yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten fifty, a hundred, smaller and smal…
I will teach you my towns… how to perform a funeral… for you have it over a tr… of artists— unless one should scour t…
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
Why go further? One might conceivably rectify the rhythm, study all out and arrive at the perfection of a tiger lily or a china doorknob. One might lift all out of the ruck, be a worthy...
This is a slight stiff dance to a waking baby whose arms have been lying curled back above his head upon the pillow, making a flower—the eyes closed. Dead to the world! Waking is a...
In this world of as fine a pair of breasts as ever I saw the fountain in Madison Square
If you had come away with me into another state we had been quiet together. But there the sun coming up out of the nothing beyond the lake…
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
"Sweet land" at last! out of sea— the Venusremembering wavelets rippling with laughter—