#AmericanWriters
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here
The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant…
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone