#AmericanWriters
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
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
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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…
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
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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