#AmericanWriters
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
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,
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
A last love, proper in conclusion, should snip the wings forbidding further flight. But I, now,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
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 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…
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
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…
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…
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
He bad O he bad He make a honky poot. Make it honky’s blue eyes squint
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.