#AmericanWriters
She sits with tears on her cheek her cheek on her hand
A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing
First he said: It is the woman in us That makes us write– Let us acknowledge it– Men would be silent.
A day on the boulevards chosen out… student poverty! One best day out… Berket in high spirits—"Ha, orang… And he made to snatch an orange fr… Now so clever was the deception, s…
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
O’eh’lee! La’la! Donna! Donna! Blue is the sky of Palermo; Blue is the little bay; And dost thou remember the orange…
unless there is a new mind there cannot be a new line
Men with picked voices chant the n… of cities in a huge gallery: promi… that pull through descending stair… to a deep rumbling. The rubbing feet
These are the desolate, dark weeks when nature in its barrenness equals the stupidity of man. The year plunges into night
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
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…
Trundled from the strangeness of the sea —— a kind of heaven —— Ladies and Gentlemen!
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
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...