#AmericanWriters
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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 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…
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
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,
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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
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 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