#AmericanWriters
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
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
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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
FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
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 keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud
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