#AmericanWriters
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
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
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,
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,
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 Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried token… Of their sojourn here
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
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a
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,
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
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
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,
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry