#AmericanWriters
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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 dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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…
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
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…
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.