#AmericanWriters
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
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…
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
The sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.
I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry
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
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 Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried token… Of their sojourn here
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Some clichty folks don’t know the facts, posin’ and preenin’ and puttin’ on acts, stretchin’ their backs.
There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win
I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans
One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,