#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
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
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave
Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
They went home and told their wive… that never once in all their lives… had they known a girl like me, But... They went home. They said my house was licking cle…
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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,
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
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,