#AmericanWriters
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
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
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
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
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
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?
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that