#AmericanWriters
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…
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
We wear the mask that grins and li… It shades our cheeks and hides our… This debt we pay to human guile With torn and bleeding hearts… We smile and mouth the myriad subt…
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…
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
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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,