#AmericanWriters
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
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
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
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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…
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
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,