#AmericanWriters
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
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,
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’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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
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
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
There is no warning rattle at the… nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer… Safe in the dark prison, I know t… light slides over the fingered work of a toothless
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
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 Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried token… Of their sojourn here