#AmericanWriters
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…
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…
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence
The night has been long, The wound has been deep, The pit has been dark, And the walls have been steep. Under a dead blue sky on a distant…
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
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 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?
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.