#Americans #Modernism
I stopped the car to let the children down where the streets end in the sun at the marsh edge
A rumpled sheet Of brown paper About the length And apparent bulk Of a man was
a trouble archaically fettered to produce E Pluribus Unum an island
Subtle, clever brain, wiser than… by what devious means do you contr… to remain idle? Teach me, O maste…
Love is twain, it is not single, Gold and silver mixed to one, Passion 'tis and pain which ming… Glist’ring then for aye undone. Pain it is not; wondering pity
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…
According to Brueghel when Icarus fell it was spring a farmer was ploughing his field
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
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
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…
Little round moon up there—wait awhile—do not walk so quickly. I could sing you a song—: Wine clear the sky is and the stars no bigger than sparks! Wait for me and next winter we’ll bui...
Lady of dusk-wood fastnesses, Thou art my Lady. I have known the crisp, splinterin… White, slender through green sapli… I have lain by thee on the brown f…
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,
Snow falls: years of anger following hours that float idly down — the blizzard drifts its weight