#AmericanWriters
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
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
Pretty women wonder where my secre… I’m not cute or built to suit a fa… But when I start to tell them, They think I’m telling lies. I say,
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
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
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
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
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city