#AmericanWriters
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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
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,
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
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 were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and
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?
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
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
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
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived