Mexican Quarter (John Gould Fletcher Poems)
By an alley lined with tumble-down shacks,And street-lamps askew, half-sputtering,Feebly glimmering on gutters choked with filth, and dogsScratching their mangy ...
By an alley lined with tumble-down shacks,And street-lamps askew, half-sputtering,Feebly glimmering on gutters choked with filth, and dogsScratching their mangy ...
The rolls and harrows lie at rest beside The battered road; and spreading far and wide Above the russet clods, the corn ...
There is snow on the ground, And the valleys are cold,And a midnight profoundBlackly squats o'er the wold;But a light on ...
The snow falls deep; the forest lies alone;The boy goes hasty for his load of brakes,Then thinks upon the fire ...
A box with paints from childhood's time:The colors of town are earth and grime.An old worker at a dark doorway ...
IEnter these enchanted woods,You who dare.Nothing harms beneath the leavesMore than waves a swimmer cleaves.Toss your heart up with the ...
In GaryThe Millsfeaston ore and men . . .Like potbellied hoboesthe mills snorelying face upwardon the north horizontheir breathlike winter ...
Gay citizen, myself, and thoughtful friend,Your ghosts are Plato's Christians in the cave.Unfix your necks, turn to the door; the ...
Moon Tops Olive Firridge Hazy Waked - Blue Squats Snow - Stirless Brush Blacks Mute - She Strips - Naked ...
Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can't I use my wit as a pitchfork And ...
My familiar ghost again Comes to see what he can see, Critic, son of Conscious Brain, Spying on our privacy. ...
Millions of babies watching the skies Bellies swollen, with big round eyes On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts Noplace to shit ...
Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both. HERE I am, ...
I. Of the million or two, more or less, I rule and possess, One man, for some cause undefined, Was ...
I. Gr-r-r---there go, my heart's abhorrence! Water your damned flower-pots, do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, God's blood, would ...
One, who is not, we see; but one, whom we see not, is; Surely this is not that; but that ...
This is the song of the parson's son, as he squats in his shack alone, On the wild, weird nights, ...
THE BABY moon, a canoe, a silver papoose canoe, sails and sails in the Indian west. A ring of silver ...
LOQUITUR: En Bertans de Born. Dante Alighieri put this man in hell for that he was a stirrer up of ...
Beside the bare and beaten track of travelling flocks and herds The woodpecker went tapping on, the postman of the ...
Two universes mosey down the street Connected by love and a leash and nothing else. Mostly I look at lamplight ...
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