#AmericanWriters
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
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
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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 smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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