#AmericanWriters
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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…
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?
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water