#AmericanWriters
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
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?