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

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

Some clichty folks
don’t know the facts,
posin’ and preenin’
and puttin’ on acts,
stretchin’ their backs.

One innocent spring
your voice meant to me
less than tires turning
on a distant street.
Your name, perhaps spoken,

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?

I keep on dying again.
Veins collapse, opening like the
Small fists of sleeping
Children.
Memory of old tombs,

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an att

Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave

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

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev
to peer into my eyes
while I within deny their threats
and answer them with lies.
Mushlike memories perform