#AmericanWriters
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water
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…
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,
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
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
When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…
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