#AmericanWriters
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
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
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,
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
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
A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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…