#AmericanWriters
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
The old men used to sing And lifted a brother Carefully Out the door I used to think they
To change the world enough you must cease to be afraid of the poor. We experience your fear as the lea… humiliations; in the past
As if I’ve swallowed A watermelon And Sidestepping My digestive tract
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
His posture From so many years Holding his robe with one hand Is odd. His gait
Let other leaders Retire To play golf & write Memoirs
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
You confide in me that you are lonely,
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.