#Americans #Modernism
Warm sun, quiet air an old man sits in the doorway of a broken house— boards for windows
Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees
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,…
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue
It’s a strange courage you give me ancient star: Shine alone in the sunrise toward which you lend no part!
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…
Nude bodies like peeled logs sometimes give off a sweetest odor, man and woman under the trees in full excess matching the cushion of
THE ARCHER is wake! The Swan is flying! Gold against blue An Arrow is lying. There is hunting in heaven—
Paterson lies in the valley under… its spent waters forming the outli… lies on his right side, head near… of the waters filling his dreams!… his dreams walk about the city whe…
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…
I bought a dish mop— having no daughter— for they had twisted fine ribbons of shining copper about white twine
Mr T. bareheaded in a soiled undershirt his hair standing out on all sides
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…
NOW that I have cooled to you Let there be gold of tarnished mas… Temples soothed by the sun to ruin That sleep utterly. Give me hand for the dances,
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