#AmericanWriters
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
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
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
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, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of lonelines… until love leaves its high holy te… and comes into our sight
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,
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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…
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,
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived