#AmericanWriters
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
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
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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,
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…
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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,
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
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?
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
There is no warning rattle at the… nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer… Safe in the dark prison, I know t… light slides over the fingered work of a toothless
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,