#AmericanWriters
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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 keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
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…
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?
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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…
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
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
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave