#AmericanWriters
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
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
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,