#AmericanWriters
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
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…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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,
There is no warning rattle at the… nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer… Safe in the dark prison, I know t… light slides over the fingered work of a toothless
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 keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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…