#Activities #AmericanWriters #MoneyAndEconomics #SocialCommentaries
the back wings of the hospital where nothing will grow lie
SORROW is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire
It was an icy day. We buried the cat, then took her box and set fire to it in the back yard.
The over-all picture is winter icy mountains in the background the return from the hunt it is toward evening from the left
The murderer’s little daughter who is barely ten years old jerks her shoulders right and left so as to catch a glimpse of me
Gagarin says, in ecstasy, he could have gone on forever he floated ate and sang
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…
The little sparrows hop ingenuously about the pavement quarreling with sharp voices
The rose is obsolete but each petal ends in an edge, the double facet cementing the grooved columns of air—The edge
Your thighs are appletrees whose blossoms touch the sky. Which sky? The sky where Watteau hung a lady’s slipper. Your knees
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,…
You know there is not much that I desire, a few chrysanthemum… half lying on the grass, yellow and brown and white, the talk of a few people, the trees,
When trouble comes your soul to tr… You love the friend who just “stan… Perhaps there’s nothing he can do’ The thing is strictly up to you; For there are troubles all your ow…
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 gotta buy me a new girdle. (I’ll buy you one) O.K.