#AmericanWriters
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
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
We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…
When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always
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
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that