#AmericanWriters
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
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
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
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
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
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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…
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a