#AmericanWriters
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev… to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
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
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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,
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