#AmericanWriters
My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of lonelines… until love leaves its high holy te… and comes into our sight
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
We wear the mask that grins and li… It shades our cheeks and hides our… This debt we pay to human guile With torn and bleeding hearts… We smile and mouth the myriad subt…
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
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
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city