#AmericanWriters
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 dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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
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
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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…
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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,
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…
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.