#AmericanWriters
We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of lonelines… until love leaves its high holy te… and comes into our sight
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?
The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant…
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry