#AmericanWriters
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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,
We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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?
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
There is no warning rattle at the… nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer… Safe in the dark prison, I know t… light slides over the fingered work of a toothless
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried token… Of their sojourn here
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city