#AmericanWriters
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
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
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
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…
Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
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
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,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
