#AmericanWriters
The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering
You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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…
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…
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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…
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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?
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
