#AmericanWriters
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
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
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
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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.
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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,
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…
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…
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,