#AmericanWriters
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
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?
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
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
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave