#AmericanWriters
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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…
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
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…
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,
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.