#AmericanWriters
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
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 last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
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
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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?
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
We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…
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
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
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.