#AmericanWriters
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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?
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
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
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…