#AmericanWriters
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
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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?
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
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
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived