I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived

Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone

Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans

The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering

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

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

FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,

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?

Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city

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

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

You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,

The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.